


Destiny's Daphne

by cutiebiz



Series: What comes between us never survives [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, extremely light bondage (playful at best)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiebiz/pseuds/cutiebiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His smell was still there, and Sam could almost fool himself into believing that he could somehow still feel his warmth. Not a few days ago, Dean had slept in this bed, alive and well and half naked...and alive...</p><p>So who was really the first one to make a deal?</p><p>Updates on progress:<br/> <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cutiebiz/">updates</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 4 of this super long series! If you haven't read the first three parts, please do so...it won't make sense otherwise....

Sam laid on the bed where Dean had slept.

His smell was still there, and Sam could almost fool himself into believing that he could somehow still feel his warmth. Not a few days ago, Dean had slept in this bed, alive and well and half naked...and alive.

John and Bobby had decided to stay two more nights before heading back to Bobby's in Sioux falls. Sam couldn't think of one reason why, but he appreciated it just the same. He now officially hated Iowa, but Bobby's would just remind him of Dean more...their room would be lonely with just Sam in it...one bed would always be empty.

Sam buried his head in Dean's pillow and began crying for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. He wrapped his arms around the other pillow, snuggling his face in it, taking deep breaths of Dean before time would wash him away. Sam knew that once he and John left for Bobby's, these sheets would be washed. They would be washed with someone else's sheets, someone else who was still alive, some other guest who would leave this place gratefully, their lives unchanged. Then the sheets would be dried and laid back out onto a bed, probably not even this one, where Dean had slept, but another bed in this shitty motel. Someone else would rent a room. They'd turn down that bed and sleep in it, screw in it, read, do paperwork, make phone calls and eat chips, never knowing that they were singlehandedly assisting the world in erasing a human being. One day, it would be like he had never existed.

"It's not fair," Sam whimpered into the pillow.

**_And when has it ever been fair?_ **

His thoughts whispered.

**_What, in everything that you have seen in this life, has led you to believe that anything is fucking fair?_ **

**_How many families have you left behind with people missing from it?_ **

**_How many families have you left behind to pick up the pieces?_ **

**_I'd change it if I could!_ **

Sam protested to himself.

**_If I could make everything better...._ **

Sam wanted to scream, wanted to curl up and die, wanted to pray....

**_Pray? And what kind of God, Sam, do you think is listening?_ **

**_What kind of God would let this happen to his children?_ **

**_The only one you should be praying to is yourself...._ **

**_God may do nothing, but you still can....You can save them all..._ **

**_You could have it all, if you'd  just-_ **

A knock interrupted Sam's whirring thoughts, and he suddenly wondered how long he had been laying there. He was distinctly aware of the amulet around his neck...it felt like an ice cube against his skin, to the point that it was uncomfortable but he never considered taking it off.

"Sam?"

It was Barton's voice.

"May I come in?"

Sam got up from the bed and made his way to the door, swinging it open and standing in the doorway.

"Hi," Sam croaked.

Barton's eyes were soft when he saw Sam.

"Oh, Sam."

It was the softest of whispers, filled with sympathy and care, but Sam couldn't take it right now. He glimpsed at the angry red skin around Barton's wound and wondered frantically if he'd be losing someone else....

"I'm sorry. Thank you for stopping by to see me, but I need some time..."

"Of course," Barton said. He reached out and brushed a hair out of Sam's face, laying a soft kiss on his cheek before saying "Call me if you need anything."

Sam nodded and shut the door as Barton turned away.

He laid back in Dean's bed and wrapped himself in the sheets, the cold afternoon hung like a glowing, gray painting through the window.

Sam fell into a fitful sleep...and dreamed of fire....

 

" ** _Blue on blue, heartache on heartache_**..."

The music drifted into his consciousness like a mist in his dreams. His eyes fluttered open, the afternoon sky had turned a shade darker.

How long had he been sleeping?

" ** _Blue on blue, now that we are through_**..."

He turned in Dean's bed and reached for his cell phone.

He had been asleep for an hour.

" ** _Blue on blue, heartache on heartache_**..."

**_Where is that music coming from?_ **

Sam sat up and listened.

**" _And I find I can't get over losing you_!"**

It was coming from the room next door, the paper thin walls creating no sound barrier between himself and the sound of what seemed to be someone's radio on in the next room on full blast.

" ** _I walk along the street we used to walk..._** ** _Two by two, lovers pass_**...."

He didn't know why the music annoyed him as much as it did...something about how he wanted to be with the people next door...away from this shitty reality....

" ** _And as they're passing by...._** ** _I could die_**...."

He pounded on the wall angrily.

Dean would have some wise ass remark right now....

" ** _'Cause you're not here with me!_** ** _Now the trees are bare, there's sadness in the air and_** ** _I'm as blue as I can be_**!"

Bobby Vinton continued to croon on the other side of the wall, unfazed by his pounding. 

Dean would be laughing his ass off right now, calling Sam an old lady...

" ** _Blue on blue, heartache on heartache_**...."

He might even have suggested that they park the Impala out in front of their room and blast Zeppelin.

" ** _Blue on blue, now that we are through_**...."

"God damn it," Sam hissed.

He stormed over to the door, angrier than he had ever felt.

Angry at this asshole for playing his fucking music so loud, angry at his Dad for getting them into this whole fucking mess, angry at Dean for leaving him behind in this **_shithole_** of a world all by himself.

He swung the door open and stomped over to the adjacent door.

" ** _Night after lonely night, we meet in dreams a_** ** _s I run to your side_**..."

He held a fist up to knock when something made him stop...

" ** _You wait with open arms...Open arms..._** ** _That now are closed to me_**!"

Someone was crying....

" ** _Through a veil of tears your v_** ** _ision disappears_**..."

He could hear it through the door...could hear it through the loud ass **_music_**...

As if by instinct, he placed his palm flat on the door and pushed slightly.

" ** _And_** ** _I'm as blue as I can be_**!"

It was open, and he was looking through a sliver in the door at a man sitting next to a bed. Sam's eyes wandered and he saw that he was weeping, holding someone's hand. Sam followed the hand and saw a girl laying on the bed, her eyes closed and her other hand resting over her stomach, her long red hair splayed over the bed in a sea of crimson curls.

" ** _Blue on blue, heartache on heartache_**..."

A pair of large headphones were laying on the bed beside her, a Walkman lay open and forgotten on the floor. She wore a yellow sundress, despite the cold weather, and a Band-Aid around the base of one of her fingers like some disposable wedding ring. Sam had seen her before in the parking lot...but there was something so familiar about her.

  
**_What the fuck happened_**?

" ** _Blue on blue, now that we are through..."_**  


It occurred to Sam that he might be witnessing the aftermath of some grizzly murder and was about to head back for his own room quietly, when the girl opened her eyes and looked at him.

He stared into her eyes for a moment...they were dark brown, like a doe's eyes...

That's not right...

" ** _Blue on blue, heartache on heartache_**..."

She closed her eyes again and smiled sleepily and said something that Sam couldn't hear over the music. Whatever she said made the man stare at her, his mouth agape and his eyes filled with disbelief. A smile tugged at his lips...

**" _And I find I can't get over losing you_!"**

"So you're a Peepin' Tom now, huh?" said a voice from behind him.

Sam whirled around and saw that it was Bobby.

He blushed furiously and opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn't what it looked like, but Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the door.

"Idjit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo Everyone! This chapter is also Deanless...sorry :( Don't worry! He'll be back really soon!

Sam came running down the road and through the motel parking lot, looking over his shoulder every once in awhile, even though he knew he wasn't being followed. He stood outside of his own motel door, his palm pressed flat against it, his knuckles bruised and torn open and bleeding...but not all of the blood was his own.

As Sam gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his ears, his blood like acid and tears of exhaustion forming in his eyes, he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened...

 

Bobby and John were gone again that day with Pastor Jim. The plan was to head to Bobby's tomorrow, so Sam had stayed behind, as usual, to finish packing their things. It didn't take long for the task to be done, and Sam found that he couldn't stand sitting in the room any longer waiting for them. After the day before, Sam hadn't heard any music coming from the room next door, and as he had headed out to the library to escape the motel for a few hours, he had seen the maid turning the room over...the same way she would his room tomorrow.

The school and the library weren't far from the motel, so the walk had been short.

He spent some time walking up and down the rows of books in the little library, not really seeing them, but happy that he wasn't in his motel room.

He plucked a book off of the shelf and pretended to flip through it while his mind wandered.

He couldn't focus. Sam hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, plagued with nightmares that came back to him in bits and pieces as the day went on.

Fire was the first thing he could remember...there was so much fire. There were people there too...a whole sea of them....

And they were **_suffering,_** Sam had remembered as he perused the book, not reading a word of it. He remembered feeling like he could help them...

**_Their suffering could end...I could make it right-_ **

Someone in the library coughed and he was brought back to reality as he snapped the book shut, glimpsing at the title : "To Reign in Hell" by Steven Brust.

He slid the book back into the shelf and decided to head back to the motel. He didn't really want to, but something told him that it was time to go...

 

As he had walked out into the chilly morning, Sam didn't bother bundling up. He liked the cold....

"Hey, freak!" a voice called from behind him.

Sam didn't have to think of who that was referring to, nor did he have to think about who was saying it.

He turned to face the uninspired insult slinger and stared at him for a moment.

It was Byron Madison accompanied by his little friend, Steve Barna. Usually they had three other goons with them: Charlie Horace, Rob Jenkis and Terry Ellis, but for some reason, and Sam was relieved, they were absent for this little feeding frenzy.

They were a year older than Sam was, and even with Sam's recent growth spurt, they were still taller and heavier than he was.

Sam wasn't their favorite victim, but he was a regular nonetheless. A few weeks ago, they had landed Doug Farelle in the hospital with a broken jaw because he had started bringing packed lunches instead of lunch money. They had waited for David Cohn to shower after gym to steal all of his clothes and books, the remains of which were later found burned in the dumpster. He hadn't done anything to them...but he was Jewish, and to these little bigots, that was a reason. When David had tried to tell someone about it, Steve had burned his arm with a cigarette.

After an encounter with the horrible five, Delila Mendez had stopped coming to school and Jessie Nguyen had arrived one day with a black eye, her head, and the five of them had whistled at her as she passed.

**_These fucking assholes._ **

The thought sprang into Sam's mind like a growl.

Sam had been dealing with bullies for what seemed like his entire life. For the most part, besides his little hiccup with Dirk MacGregor, he had been able to keep his head down and focus on his work.

**_You've taken this shit for too long..._ **

Something in his mind whispered.

"Haven't seen you in school for awhile. Too chicken shit to show up? I've been so bored without you, you know!" Byron jeered. Steve let out a loud giggle, smoking a cigarette and blowing it in Sam's general direction.

It took everything Sam had not to retort and to keep walking. He hoped beyond hope that they would just leave him alone...

**_Not today..._ **

But then Sam heard the sound of their footsteps coming closer to him and he knew that they weren't about to just let him walk away.

Byron gave him a shove so hard that it knocked Sam to the ground while Steve kept lookout, cigarette in hand.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me you little bitch-"

And that's when it happened.

Sam lost it.

He turned his body and punched Byron hard in his mouth, causing Byron to stumble back a little looking stunned at first and then furious, his face contorted into a look of rage, his teeth stained red with his own blood.

**_Isn't justice sweet?_ **

Byron came at him again, hands outstretched, as though ready to strangle him, but Sam was faster. He grabbed Byron by the wrist of one hand and the fingers of the other, pulling him in by his wrist and landing a knee to the older boy's stomach and twisting two of his fingers back so far he heard them snap, causing Byron to let out a howl of pain. Byron fell to his knees, doubled over and looking at his fingers, his eyes wide with horror.

Sam knew that his face was probably identical to Byron's.

What the hell was he doing?

He heard the scraping of shoes against the sidewalk and Sam's thoughts vanished as he whirled around to glare at Steve, who was looking pale and wide eyed at his friend.

Sam snatched the cigarette from Steve, who was frozen with terror, and stabbed the still burning end of it into the corner of Steve's mouth, eliciting a loud wail of pain that was sure to attract everyone in the library, but Sam wasn't finished.

He punched Steve hard in the cheek, feeling something crack beneath his knuckles and Steve was on the ground, holding his face with both hands, completely quiet, but conscious. 

Something about seeing them on the floor like this made Sam feel so so good. 

Sam knelt down beside the two cowering boys and said only loud enough for them to hear "Touch any of us again, and I'll hurt you in ways that your pathetic minds have never even thought of before. And I promise, you'll never see me coming."

**_Wasn't that fun?_ **

**_Oh my God, what did I just do?_ **

Sam turned on his heel and ran all the way back to the motel....

 

Sam stared at his bloody knuckles and felt the tears begin falling in spite of himself. 

He had no one anymore. 

Dean would have taken care of those kids in a heartbeat had Sam asked...and Dean would probably have scolded him for using excessive force while somehow also being somewhat impressed by this new streak of ruthlessness.

He'd have cleaned him up and put frozen peas on his bruised hands...would have kissed his bandaged knuckles....

But Dean was gone.

Sam put his back up against the motel door and put his face in his hands, silent sobs wracking though his body and making him shake.

" ** _I feel so bad I've got a worried mind..._** ** _I'm so lonesome all the time..._** "

"Oh God not again!" Sam groaned, crying even harder.

**_I can't deal with this shit!_ **

**_"Since I left my baby behind on blue bayou..."_ **

"Would you keep it down!" Sam bellowed, turning his head in the direction of the neighboring door, when it dawned on him...

**_"Savin' nickels, savin' dimes, Workin' till the sun don't shine..."_ **

The maid had been turning over that room...those people had left....

" _ **Lookin' forward to happier times on blue bayou...** "_  


The music wasn't coming from the room next door....

He pushed himself away from the door to his room and turned to stare at it.

" ** _I'm goin' back some day, come what may, to blue bayou..._** ** _Where you sleep all day and the catfish play on blue bayou_**..."

The music was coming from **_his_** room...

" ** _All those fishin' boats with their sails afloat, if I could only see..._** ** _That familiar sunrise through sleepy eyes how happy I'd be_**..."

Sam didn't take his eyes from the door, and found that he couldn't move.

**_What do I do?_ **

The door swung open. Music and the smell of cigarettes came billowing out of his motel room, and there in the doorway stood the tall redhead he had seen before. She leaned in the doorway, smiling warmly and brought a cigarette up to her lips, taking a deep drag, her headphones hanging around her neck.

" ** _Oh, to see my baby again..._** ** _And to be with some of my friends_**...."

She looked him over with crystal blue eyes.

"So," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Are we doing this or not?"

Sam was rooted to his spot.

**_She has a British accent..._ **

" ** _Maybe I'd be happy then on blue bayou_**..."

**_She's so tall...and the red hair...and those eyes...how didn't I notice it before?_ **

" ** _I'm goin' back some day, gonna stay on blue bayou..._** ** _Where the folks are fine and the world is mine on blue bayou_**...."

She smiled, her eyes warm, as though looking upon an old friend.

"Figured it out then, have you?" she said.

She grabbed Sam's wrist and gently pulled him into the motel room, the door shutting behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know...I LOVE lyrics, I simply can't help myself!  
> I know everything's super weird right now, but it will all come together, I promise!  
> So, question for those of you who read this on your mobile devices, can you see italics, or just bold?   
> Also, I would love some feedback as to how you want me to be putting these out...would you rather have a set day a week that I release the next chapter? Or should I just post them when they're finished? I just want this to be a pleasant experience for you, and we're going to be together for such a long time (hopefully) I'd love to know about your preferences :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the feedback!

" _Ah, that girl of mine by my side..._ _The silver moon and the evening tide_...."

Sam looked over at Dean's bed where there sat a very small portable radio which was still featuring Roy Orbison, who timelessly sang in ignorance to everything that Sam was  experiencing right now.

" _Ah, some sweet day gonna take away this hurtin' inside_..."

Something brushed against his legs and he saw a small brown rabbit nibbling at his shoelaces.

" _I'll never be blue, my dreams come true on blue bayou_..."

Sam couldn't help but wonder what he was going to tell his dad about all of this, as the music faded and the girl lit another cigarette.

"Lexi, no!" the tall redhead chastised, bending down and swooping the rabbit up in one arm. The rabbit didn't struggle, but held onto Sam's shoelace until the girl grabbed it and tugged at it.

"No! Bad Lexi! That's not food."

Sam stared at her...observing her.... 

She was as tall as _he_ was...same hair color...same eyes...same light skin, that, as far as he could tell, was free of piercings and tattoos and Sam wondered how old she was.

"Could you **not** smoke in here?"

She looked up at him with a little smile.

"Don't worry. We'll be finished before they even get here."

"What does that mean?"

The girl dropped the rabbit back to the floor who began exploring other parts of the room, and then sat down on Dean's bed, looking at Sam with sleepy, warm eyes.

"I'm going to help you, Sam. But in order for me to do that, I need you to listen to me, and I need you to trust me."

Sam sat down opposite of her.

"Okay..."

She nodded and crossed her long legs, leaning towards Sam and reaching out the hand that didn't have the cigarette, which was, awkwardly enough, not her right hand.

"I'm Daphne Arlington, Sam, and it is simply wonderful to meet you...this time...."

Sam took her left hand in his and he didn't bother asking about what she meant by "This Time."

They let their hands slip apart and Sam couldn't help but stare.

_Should I call Barton? He's been looking for her...._

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Sam. I know what it feels like, trust me."

Her eyes were soft and Sam felt more comfortable than he had in what felt like ages.

"Yeah," was all that Sam could manage. "So you're Barton and Wendy's sister?"

"Yes," she said with a smile, taking another drag.

"You guys, uh, close?"

_Keep her busy...maybe if Bobby gets here, he'll recognize her..._

_And then what? Bag her up and send her to Barton?_

"Wendy and I love each other, but we often butt heads...Barton on the other hand...well...we spent the better part of a year naked and pressed up against each other....We're _very_ close...." she said, blowing smoke and staring wistfully at the ceiling.

Sam felt his heart leap and it must have shown on his face because there was laughter in her crystal blue eyes.

"We're twins, Sam. It's a twin joke. Now stop stalling. Let's get on with it."

"Get on with what?"

"I'm going to get Dean back to you."

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out. His heart was racing as something awoke inside of him...something that had been asleep the moment that Dean's heart had stopped beating...hope.

"How?"

"First, I need you to tell me how he died, in detail...."

Sam took a shaky breath as he felt hot tears jump to his eyes.

_How can she ask me that?_

"Sam, you said that you'd trust me," her voice had a gentle firmness to it that greatly reminded him of Barton.

"A witch put a spell on him..." Sam swallowed thickly as he remembered Dean's beautiful corpse on the floor of the shed.

"You've been having dreams about him, haven't you?"

Sam nodded miserably.

"Dreams where he's alive, and you've gone to South Dakota...."

Sam looked up at her, shocked, but she just smiled.

"The reason why most of us are sad, Sam, and the reason why many of us can not move on past the hurt, is because there is an alternate timeline in which everything is working out exactly as it should be, and we can _feel_ it."

Sam was speechless as Daphne continued.

"In your dream, he told you how he survived, did he not?"

"The hex bag in his pocket...he ate the contents...."

His voice came out as a whisper.

Daphne nodded, looking pleased.

"This is going to be easier than we thought."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, suddenly wary.

"I'm going to take you back to that moment, and you are going to convince Dean to eat the hex bag!"

"What?"

"Now, Sam, we need to go over the ground rules...."

"Rules?"

Sam felt as though he was barely following any of this, it was all so weird...but it felt right....

Daphne stood up and walked to the door, locking it.

"There are those in between who fancy themselves to be 'fate' or 'The Servants of God' or whatever...."

She walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

"They're very mistaken, but powerful nonetheless, and can create a real problem if they are alerted to our little endeavor..."

She closed the curtains, and the room was dark.

"I can get you into Dean's final moments, when he can hear you the best from this side...."

She sat beside Sam now on the bed.

"Here's the thing, Sam. You can't let _them_ know what you're up to...."

"What?"

Sam had never felt so incompetent in his life, but she seemed used to it and moved right along.

"Sam, have you ever wondered why spirits are so vague? Why they can't just come out and say 'On May 16th, 2014, you're to die at a Starbucks in San Diego?'"

Sam shook his head.

"Because _they_ stop the message... _they_ know what those 'spirits' are up to. So 'spirits' have gotten wise and are nice and vague. If they don't use trigger words, then they don't get caught and the message can get through. So what _you've_ got to do, my friend, is tell Dean to eat the hex bag without _telling_ him to eat the hex bag."

Sam felt his eyebrows come together.

"How do I...do that?"

"It's up to you, really," Daphne said with a shrug.

Sam was caught in the Bermuda triangle of confused, fascinated and doubtful.

"So you're going to be...changing destiny?"

"No, Sam. _This_ is destiny." She reached out her hand and grabbed his. "There are some who have tried to alter events to suit their own agenda.... "

Sam looked at her long, slim fingers, a Band-Aid strapped around her ring finger. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there are forces at work trying to make their goals easier for themselves by altering the past...I'm here to set things right....I can tell you right now that very soon this reality ends..." she said all of this gazing around as though expecting the walls of reality to crumble as they spoke.

It was true. Sam could feel it, like a charge in the air.

"So that's the rule?"

"Well, there are others...I'm not sure you're going to like it...."

Sam turned his head slowly to look at her.

"Rule number one: after we do this, you are to _never_ tell a soul as to what we have done. Never speak of it, or you shall wake up, once again, here. We get _one_ chance to do this, Sam...after that, I can never help you this way again..."

Sam nodded, anxiety building in his stomach.

How was he going to do this?

"Rule number two: There is a very delicate balance that we are catering to. Right or wrong, when Dean died, a rift was created. They made the first move and we are simply retaliating, but nevertheless the universe allows them one last chance of rebuttal...so here's the thing: there will come a time when Dean will need...help....When this particular time comes, you will do nothing about it...."

"So...the next time-"

"Not the next time...perhaps not even the time after that...you won't know, Sam, it will come out of nowhere really...he'll need you and you won't be there...some people experience a sort of...overwhelming apathy when it occurs that makes them...unwilling to assist...."

Sam stared at her, feeling horrified.

"So when Dean will need me, I'll what, walk away?"

She nodded, taking a final drag of her cigarette and put it out on the coffee table.

"You see, Sam, when they make the final move and you stand by, you are _ending_ the cycle."

"And if Dean dies?"

"Then you'll go on as though nothing ever happened...you'll move on, have another life...."

Sam couldn't even imagine it... _that_ was almost crueler than what was happening to him right now....

"And if he survives? What will I tell him _then_? How do I explain why I never helped?"

"That's not really my problem," she said dismissively. "When the time passes, you'll go back to normal after awhile, but remember the first rule, you can't tell him _anything_ about what we've done."

Sam stared at Dean's bed, his fingers coming up to his chest to stroke the metal horns.

His mind put up a tiny fight that he knew wouldn't win.

No matter what the consequences, he _needed_ Dean...needed him back....

"Fine," he said, looking down as the rabbit began nibbling on his shoelaces again.

"Good. Have you thought of what you're going to say?"

Sam stared at Dean's bed and nodded slowly, one hand going to his wrist and cupping it, remembering the pain there....

"Let's begin, then."

 

Sam stared down at her.

They were on his bed, Sam sitting on his knees with Daphne's head laying on his lap.

They lay in silence for a moment and Sam was starting to feel awkward...

Was this even working?

It was dark in the room, and she seemed to have fallen asleep, her eyes closed and her breathing steady, the rabbit laying in her arms and nibbling at a lock of her red hair.

There was a sudden intake of breath and Sam was about to ask her if she was okay when she let out a little groan that sounded...familiar...

"Sammy?"

It was still Daphne's voice, but somehow...it sounded like him....

She opened her eyes a little.  

Sam could see in the darkness that eyes that had once been Crystal blue were now a brilliant green. They fluttered shut again, as though it was exhausting to open them.

Sam could recognize those eyes from anywhere and felt his heart begin to race.

"Dean?"

She (he) coughed, and Sam couldn't stop himself from stroking his hair.

He leaned closer and sure enough, it smelled like Dean, living and breathing under Sam's fingertips.

"I love it when you touch me..." Dean breathed through Daphne's lips.

He felt tears choking him.

"You won't get sick of it?" Sam whispered, still bent over her, trying to get as close to Dean as possible.

"I'll never get sick of you...but you'll always be a pain in my ass."

"Oh, so  _I_  get to be on top?" 

_Keep him talking...keep him here...._

"Not a chance."

And suddenly she groaned in agony.

Sam grabbed Dean's hands and intertwined their fingers, feeling the warmth disappearing.

_The hex bag, Dean, eat the hex bag...._

"Hey, remember when Dad was teaching us how to pick handcuffs?" Sam asked quietly.

"Hm," Dean nodded.

Sam squeezed Dean's fingers again, his heart aching.

_Please, let this work...._

"And I was the guinea pig, and then in the middle of it, the guy in the room next to us had an emergency..."

"The microwave explosion," Dean murmured, and Sam felt relief flood him.

_This is good...he's listening...._

"Right. Dad had to take him to the hospital and completely forgot about us for like six hours..."

"I had to feed you because you had your hands behind your back hooked through the cabinet handle," Dean chuckled.

Sam stroked his head and felt that he was sweating profusely.

"Hey, a man's gotta eat," Sam said seriously.

"And the whole time...I didn't even know it..." Dean murmured, far away, in another time.

Sam nodded, staring in the darkness at the shape that lay on his knees.

"The key was in your pocket."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's going to be back next chapter YAYYYY! I hope you all are having a lovely week so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Dean and John hunt the Kitsune that is mentioned in S7E3 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope that the wait hasn't been too terrible :)  
> Good news: Dean is back!  
> Bad news....well this is going to be a rocky Part 4....

 

Dean woke up with an uncomfortable crick in his neck, he tried to open his eyes but quickly shut them when the rays of sunlight stabbed his retinas. He groaned a little and tried to sit up, but there was something heavy on his chest. Dean furrowed his brows and was suddenly becoming very aware of the headache that was developing behind his eyes, the sound of soft rain pattering against the windows did nothing to ease it.

His eyes watered as he slowly let his eyelids flutter open, blinking frantically to adjust to the assaulting daylight.

_Why the hell are the curtains open?_

But there were no curtains...he wasn't in the motel room...he was in the back of the Impala.

Dean let his eyes drift to see what was on his chest, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he already knew what it was.

A girl with long, dirty blonde hair was lying against his naked chest. From what he could see of her, she was also naked, but a blanket had been haphazardly flung over them.

He felt a pang of guilt in his heart mixed with disgust as the events of the evening prior came tumbling back into his mind, all just as hung over as he was.

_"Oh, Dean. Quick question-how do you talk to girls?"_

Dean grimaced, his stomach churning at the thought of why Sam would _possibly_ ask him that question.

 

It had been a little over five months since Sam had decided that they needed time apart, and it had taken Dean over a month of begging Sam for forgiveness before he finally conceded and allowed Sam his space. It broke Dean's heart, but he tried to stay busy whilst respecting Sam's wishes.

Dean had thought, at the time, that he understood the ground rules: They were taking a _break_ , not _breaking up_ , so being with other people was out of the question (which was a no brainer for Dean because he really never wanted anyone else anyway). But then Dean had gotten that call....

John and Dean had been hunting a Kitsune and Sam had been at the library doing research....

Dean had called to talk about how to kill the fucking thing and that's when Sam had asked.

He remembered wanting to punch a wall, to curl up in the back of the Impala and cry...instead, in true Dean Winchester fashion, he bottled it up and went to work, saying nothing to Sam for the rest of the day, then went to the nearest bar to get drunk and pick up the hottest girl who would fuck him. Dean would have liked to blame it on the fact that he and John had found the Kitsune dead...fell on its own kitchen knife, and he never even had the chance to take out his aggression....

_You fucked up, Dean..._

The voice in his head whispered.

_Yeah, well, what's new?_

He thought bitterly.

 

The rain started to beat down harder and Dean was just wondering how he was going to wake this girl up when suddenly his phone began to ring on the floor. There was a sharp intake of breath as the girl lifted her face from his chest and blinked slowly, her blue eyes surrounded by old mascara and eyeliner.

The ringing continued.  

She looked around for a minute as though trying to remember where she was.

"You gonna get that?" she murmured sleepily, laying her head down on his chest again as though ready to resume her sleep.

Dean wanted to fling her off of him and take the hottest shower imaginable, but instead found his phone on the floor and lifted it to his ear.

"Good morning, sir," Dean said, trying not to sound as exhausted and hung over as he felt.

"Where are you?" John asked on the other line.

Dean thanked God for John's good mood, which had been relatively prevalent since he got his cast off and was back to work. Dean knew that this wouldn't last forever, and so made a mental note never to go anywhere without first informing his father.

"Outside the pub," Dean answered after rising a little to see where he was.

There was a quick huff that was John's laughter on the other end.

"Well, get yourself back, we've got another one."

"Where?"

"Orlando."

_So we're going from rainy and gloomy to muggy and hot...yay._

"I'll be right there, sir."

 

Everything was already packed by the time Dean arrived. He tried not to look at Sam who he could feel was eyeing him with curiosity.

He grabbed his duffel and headed out to the car, opening the trunk and tossing the bag into it, Sam on his heels.

"Dean..."

Dean avoided Sam's eyes and grabbed Sam's duffel from him, tossing it with his own and shutting the trunk before bee-lining to the driver's side. He couldn't look at him...not after what he had done.

Sam opened the door to the back seat and sat his backpack down on the seat, unzipping it and rummaging for something. Dean listened in the front seat watching John grab a wad of cash from his own duffel before throwing it into the truck.

John had was almost to the manager's office to pay their bill when Dean realized that Sam had stopped rummaging.

"Dean."

Dean sighed, keeping his eyes fixed on their father who disappeared into the office.

"What?"

There was silence in the back seat.

" _What_?" Dean repeated, finally glancing to the back where Sam was staring at him, his dark hazel eyes looking at him mournfully while a death glare was fixed on the rest of his beautiful features.

Sam was holding up his hand, a lacy, black bra dangling from a strap from his long index finger.

Dean winced and felt his chest ache.

He had ever intention of telling Sam...just not right now....

"What the fuck, Dean?"

"Sammy-"

"You fucked someone."

It wasn't a question.

Dean didn't say anything but just stared back at Sam, his heart in his throat.

"Why?"

Sam's eyes were pleading, and he looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Who was that girl you were talking to?" Dean asked lamely, knowing damn well that he sounded like a petty asshole.

"I didn't fuck her, if that's what you're asking," Sam responded, obviously trying to stay calm.

"Yeah, well, _something_ happened..."

_God, Dean, just shut the fuck up...._

"Yeah. I kissed her."

Sam's response took Dean completely by surprise.

He was now torn between self hatred, fury and hot, flaming jealousy.

Sam continued calmly.

"I felt sorry for her. She was so...lonely...I dunno, I felt for her, y'know. She wasn't even allowed to _talk_ to boys...so I kissed her, because I wanted her to feel like less of a freak for like, two minutes. I knew I'd never see her again anyway...."

Dean stared at his brother, having no clue what to say to this blatant honesty.

Sam didn't have to tell him this, and Dean knew it. Sam at this moment owed Dean zero explanations, but here he was, communicating like he always did, the little shrink....

"And you know what, Dean, I'm fucking sorry. It's not going to happen again."

Dean didn't know what to do as what little resolve he had was crumbling away inside of him.

He wanted to reach over the seats and pull Sam to him...wanted to kiss him over and over again to wash away everything else that had ever touched him.

"So," Sam's voice cracked as he lifted the bra up a little higher, tears finally breaking free and spilling down his beautiful face. "What the fuck is this, Dean?"

_I was wrong, Sammy. God, I'm so fucking sorry! Please forgive me, baby!_

Dean wanted to break and beg, but that stone cold bitterness, that chip that inhabited his shoulder like a parasite took hold of him once more.

"Same thing as you, Sam. Felt for her, knew I'd never see her again anyway."

Sam stared at Dean, shock and pain written across his face.

He blinked a few times and let out a huff of disbelief, letting the lacy evidence fall from his fingertip.

He wiped his face with his hands and let out a shaky breath, grabbing his backpack and zipping it up.

Dean could do nothing but watch as Sam trudged over to John's truck and jumped into the passenger seat. John gave him a look of surprise before getting into the driver's seat, then started up the engine and began their journey to Florida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it has been pointed out to me that Sam's eyes are HAZEL...it seems that I am a little bit colorblind :


	5. Chapter 5

 

Sam stared out the window of the truck in silence. It wasn't hard to be silent while taking a trip with John, who was always in his head as it was. His dad hadn't said anything when he had decided to forego an uncomfortable silence with Dean for a normal silence with John...and John hadn't said anything about Sam's face being raw from crying. It took everything in Sam's power not to curl up and cry about it, instead he stared gloomily outside at the rain as they drove, thinking about how desperately he wanted to wash his hands after touching that bra strap...

_I'm no saint either though...what about Amy?_

Sam shut his eyes and sighed internally.

He really _had_ felt bad for Amy.

He had seen her at the Library and had felt...drawn to her somehow. This feeling had only intensified the more that he studied about the Kitsune...he had felt like he _needed_ to talk to her.

_Like a sixth sense...._

He had asked Dean how to talk to girls, which he now in hindsight realized was a _terrible_ idea, and that Dean _wouldn't_ have had _any_ idea on how to process that...Sam just hadn't thought about it...he thought Dean _knew_ that Sam would have at least _talked_ about it before running off and flirting....

_He should have asked me before he ran off and screwed someone...Did he really think that if I was going to cheat I'd ask HIM how?_

Sam thought bitterly about how surprised he was that Dean had made it this long without sex.

_It must have been a relief...._

Sam had never had a problem talking to girls that he already knew from class or work, but he had never talked to a girl who was a stranger before. After being called a freak so often, Sam wondered if perhaps he was emanating some creep factor when he talked to people...and he knew he _had_ to talk to Amy and didn't want to scare her away.

About the kiss...well, that really had just _happened_. His heart was broken for her. She had been so sad. Sam could see it all over her face. So alone.

He and Amy had so much in common, being dragged from place to place like luggage and given no choice as to what kind of life to live...their whole lives laid out for them so that they could see what it would look like from beginning...to end.

Yeah. Sam knew how that felt, but it was worse for Amy....Sam had _Dean_ , and Amy had _nobody_.

_Especially now...._

Sam glanced over at his dad who was staring at the road, his eyes focused, deep in thought.

John had never mentioned how the Kitsune had died to Sam, which was normal, and neither had Dean, which was unusual. Sam didn't need them to tell him how she had died, because he had been there....Amy had saved his life, and he owed it to her to do the same. He wondered if his little cover up had worked. He had only about three minutes to make the thing look like an accident. He would have taken the credit himself if he could, but he knew that John would have asked way too many questions, like what was he doing at this person's house to begin with, and Sam couldn't let Amy's existence be revealed.

So he had done his best to make it look like a freak accident...it's not like John and Dean would be checking for fingerprints....

_"Come with me."_

Her words echoed in Sam's head.

_"We don't have to be alone. We can be freaks together, Sam."_

 He had always dreamed of running away from it all...had always thought about what it would be like to just have a normal life....

It had been tempting, but not because he would be with Amy...if Sam was ever going to run away it was so he _wouldn't_ be a freak anymore....

He knew that if it hadn't been Amy asking him to run away...if it had been _Dean_...

_I wouldn't have had to think about it...._

His heart sank again.

_I fucked everything up._

 

He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep until he heard John's gruff voice say "We're here, Sam."

When he opened his eyes, it was dark and they were parked outside of Runnin' Comfort Motel.

John had already gotten out of the driver's seat without waiting for Sam, who slowly got out of the passenger seat and grabbed his backpack. John headed for the manager's office while Dean pulled up with the Impala and parked beside the truck. Dean opened the door and Sam pretended to be busy looking through his backpack. He heard Dean shut the car door behind him and assumed that he would be following dad until he felt warm breath on his neck.

"We're stopping?" Dean asked quietly into Sam's ear.

Sam swallowed so that his voice wouldn't tremble.

"Looks like."

He didn't know how to feel about Dean's proximity. A large part of him wanted to punch Dean hard in the face...but mostly he just wanted to sink back into his arms and forget that any of this shit had ever happened.

"Sammy..."

The nickname brushed softly against Sam's cheek and he felt his traitorous heart fluttering.

The moment ended abruptly when John walked out of the manager's office with two keys in his hand.

"You two go ahead. Get some rest, we've got an early start tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Dean said and took the key that John handed to him.

 

Dean went out and got them both some take out, dropping the greasy bag on the plastic table.

"So what do you think we're dealing with?" Dean asked as he pulled two plates out of a cabinet and loaded them up with burgers and fries.

Sam watched as Dean grabbed the napkins and set them beside the plates before washing his hands and taking a seat at the table.

Dean was so domestic, and Sam couldn't help but think that if Dean wasn't around, Sam would probably be a savage....

Sam looked at his knuckles as he remembered beating the crap out of those bullies.

Daphne....

"Um, I don't really know...I don't have access to a library at the moment and I haven't found anything in the books I have right now."

"If you had to take a guess?"

Sam sat down at his plate an thought about it.

John had given them a vague idea of the situation while they were packing their things for their little excursion.

There were three reports from people who claimed that their loved ones were calling them every night, crying and begging for help. A week later those loved ones were dead...

That didn't seem too strange...but then again, John hadn't been very specific.

"A psychic?" Sam asked, shrugging.

"Maybe," Dean replied, taking a bite of his burger.

"I can't really tell until I do some proper research."

Dean nodded, staring at the food in his hands.

Sam knew that he was thinking...and knew he wasn't thinking about the case...

Sam opened his mouth to say something when his phone began to ring.

He pulled it out of his pocket a looked at the name on the screen.

"Who is it?" Dean asked, eyeing Sam's phone suspiciously from where he sat.

Sam stared at the name, and knew it was going to start trouble.

No secrets, Sam.

Sam laid his phone out so Dean could see it.

Well, none that you can help....

Dean made a face at Barton's name and then turned away taking another bite of his food.

Sam flipped his phone open.

"Hey."

"This is a bad time isn't it?" said Barton silkily on the other side.

"A little," Sam said, glancing up at Dean who was deliberately not looking at him and was instead, uncharacteristically, giving a French fry a slow death.

"I can tell by your voice. I'll call you later, then," Barton said amiably.

"Okay, bye."

Sam felt a pang of guilt.

He wanted to tell Barton about Daphne...he deserved to know that she was alive and well...

_After we do this, you are to never tell a soul as to what we have done._

He glanced over at Dean.

_It's worth it._

Sam thought resolutely, taking a bite of his burger.

_What goes on between Daphne and Barton is none of my business._

_I'm not risking Dean over this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are so short! I hope you enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

 

Dean sat on the crappy, stiff sofa in front of the television. The pictures on the small screen moved but Dean wasn't watching it. He was listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, Sam taking his sweet ass time in the shower as usual. Dean huffed a sigh of frustration as he tried to focus on the tv...and not think about what Sam naked...with the water running down his beautifully tan body-

_Cut it out!_

Dean willed himself to concentrate as he stared at the screen, a Mexican woman with huge knockers in a tight dress yelled in Spanish at an older woman.

Sam was probably washing his body...he always did that while he let his conditioner set in...

Dean imagined Sam rubbing soap suds off of his body with his fingertips, his hands traveling down his abs, touching himself slowly...then his hand would wander south, tracing his happy trail. Dean envisioned Sam's mouth dropping open as he took himself in his hand...Dean loved watching Sam be pleasured...especially when it was Dean doing it-

The older woman on the television slapped the younger woman who glared at her assailant under long, fake eyelashes.

_I can't do this._

Dean practically jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket and keys. His eyes lingered for one final moment on the bathroom door before he shut the motel door behind him, locking it with the key.

_"Be back later. Do security check before you sleep."_

Dean texted to Sam before starting up the Impala and driving out of the parking lot.

 

Dean pulled into the busy parking lot of the bar that he had seen on his way to the motel. It didn't even have a name, it just said in big neon letters "Bar" which Dean found promising. The parking lot was crammed with cars, motorcycles, and people who were drinking, smoking and talking. The music from the inside boomed so loud that it spilled out through the doors. The crowd looked pretty rough, but that never deterred Dean...if anything it made him more comfortable. He went inside and, despite the body count, was surprised to find a seat at the bar. He ordered a beer and turned to look at the people. With a trained eye, he could sort out the weak from the wary, amazed at how many of them were completely at ease in an environment filled with strangers.

  
_Arrogance_.

His father's voice said in his head.

His eye wandered onto a group of young men sitting around a table. They wore leather jackets and were laughing heartily at something, each with a beer in their hand, a graveyard of empty pitchers scattered over the table. As relaxed as they seemed, Dean could tell the way their eyes traveled over the large group of people that _they_ were paying attention.

_They're used to danger._

Most of the people in the group had long beards and matching tattoos on their necks, which Dean was unable to decipher from where he sat, and then his eyes landed on the odd one in the group. Also wearing a leather jacket, same tattoo on his neck, there sat a man who looked closer to Dean's age. Unlike the others, though, he had a softer look to him and his hair was a dark purple, a nose ring decorating his otherwise clean and shaven face. As though he felt himself being watched, his eyes flickered to meet Dean's and when their eyes met he gave Dean a little wink, causing Dean to turn away immediately, downing his beer and asking for another. The bartender was an incredibly tall man with a mess of long brown hair but no beard. He looked bored as he brought Dean his refill, but Dean could tell that he was watching the sea of bodies with the same attentiveness as Dean had been.

Dean was working to get properly shit faced, and he was in four beers and two shots when someone slipped up beside him and said in a sultry voice "Could we get another, sugar?"

"Sure, Nikki," the Bartender responded.

Dean could see from the corner of his eye that it was the Biker with the purple hair...and he was staring at Dean.

"Hi there," he said flirtatiously.

Dean turned to him and gave him a dismissive smile and a "hi" before turning away again and downing the rest of his beer.

"Where you from?"

Dean shook his head, staring straight in front of him as he pushed his glass towards the bartender.

"Everywhere. Could I have another, when you get a chance please?"

"What's your name?"

Dean glanced over at Nikki.

Usually these would have been prime victims for a game of pool, but Dean wasn't here to hustle. He just wanted to drink in peace.

Dean could see that the tattoo on his neck clearly now. It was a circle of circles, and each circle had different degrees of color in them. The bottom circle of Nikki's tattoo had no color, but two red dots on either side of it.

_So many circles..._

Dean could make zero sense of it, and knew better than to ask. The last thing he needed was to get involved in some gang related shit...especially when he was this far gone. Dean was trying to think of something to say when suddenly one of the men from the table called "Nikki! Get back over here!"

Nikki turned and gave the enormous man a playful glare right as the bartender placed a fresh pitcher in front of him.

"See you later," he said to Dean.

Dean lifted his new beer in a little salute and watched the slim man join his companions once again.

He finished his beer, deciding that this one would be his last for the night and then struggled through the crowd to the bathroom.

The bathroom was spectacularly clean considering the location, and it seemed to be the only place where the music was significantly muffled. A man was passed out in one of the stalls, laying on the floor arms folded over the toilet seat creating a pillow for his head, while someone else was in one of the other stalls...not alone from the sound of it.

Dean finished his business and was washing his hands when the door swung open. Nikki shut the door behind him looking at Dean as though he was a meal. Dean glanced at the slim window above them, considering whether or not he could escape when he was suddenly pushed against the tiled wall, Nikki assaulting Dean's lips with his own. It took him a minute for his drunk mind to process what was happening.

_This guy...._

There was something so _demanding_ about him...and Dean found that it wasn't much of a chore at all to let this continue...he actually kind of enjoyed it...okay maybe he was really enjoying it...

_Sammy..._

Dean turned his head away abruptly, gently pushing the other young man away.

Nikki looked confused.

"What's the matter?"

Dean was blinking slowly to try to get his head to stop spinning when a familiar voice floated through the window.

"You sure you can handle this on your own?"

Dean immediately recognized the voice as his father's and he screwed his head around to see the window as though he could somehow hear him better. Nikki latched onto his neck and began sucking, pushing his hands up under Dean's shirt, but Dean ignored it to listen to the conversation.

"Yeah, I've got an insider in their pack...he's gonna lead me and a couple of the other boys to their hideout. We've got the silver bullets all ready," another man's voice wafted through the window and Nikki stopped sucking.

"How's your boy?" the man asked John.

John made an ambiguous sound and Dean felt himself turning his body to listen harder.

"Found a couple of other ones," the man continued. "Pair o' twins, their mamma gave 'em up. Been sep'rated. Another crib fire, too. Gallagher...you hear about it?"

Another noncommittal sound from John.

"Listen, I know you don't wanna believe it, Winchester, but you gotta hear me out-"

"I've gotta get going," John's voice cut him off, and Dean heard the scraping of shoes against the concrete.

"Happy huntin' John!" the man's voice called.

Dean could hear his father's grunt in return.

"Cuz that's what we do, John. Don't let _any_ slip through our fingers!"

Dean was suddenly aware of his heart beating fast.

_It's time to go._

Dean turned and realized that his amorous companion had disappeared.

  
_Good_.

Dean stumbled out of the bathroom and fought his way through the crowd, wanting more than anything to get back to Sam. He was just barely sober enough to see that Nikki and his crowd had vanished.

_Sam. I need to get to my Sammy...I need to get in the car and drive to the motel and get to Sam...I need him now...._

His drunk mind prattled.

Despite Dean's plans, he made it to the Impala and fell asleep in the driver's seat.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Orlando was muggy as fuck. 

Dean sighed as he put on his shirt and tried to ignore how sticky his body was from the humidity.

He glanced over at Sam who was now giving Dean the full silent treatment.

John came out of the bathroom a minute later and herded his sons out of the motel and to the Impala.

 

Dean had arrived the next day with a mad headache and a hickey on his neck, which neither Sam nor John had acknowledged verbally. John's eyes had looked over his son for a moment, taking in his appearance before telling him he had three minutes to clean himself up and Sam's eyes immediately had landed directly on the angry red mark on Dean's neck, his eyes wide with fury.

Once again, Sam had ridden with dad.

Now here they were, in Orlando, the three of them in the Impala, John dressed in a suit, Dean in his most acceptable outfit and Sam in the backseat, staring out the window.

John dropped Sam off at the library instructing him to have his phone on him at all times.

Dean watched Sam enter the front doors, feeling himself reach for him internally as they drove away.

 

"I don't understand, I already told all of this to the other guys...I thought this matter was closed," the woman at the door said, looking more confused than anything else. Her name was Delilah Fanning, daughter of Terrance Fanning. It had been around a month since her father had passed away, which made her more adjusted than Dean was used to. She was in her thirties, her hair such a dark red that it could have been mistaken for brown, and her eyes a dolphin grey. She wore very little makeup and it was obvious that she took very good care of her skin.

"I'm sorry to bother you Ms Fanning, but there were a few questions I still have to ask. This is my associate, he'll be listening in, if you don't mind."

She glanced over Dean.

"No problem...can I get you gentlemen anything?"

She led them to her living room which was a vision in beige and motioned them to sit on the sofa across from her.

"Nothing, thank you," said Dean, and John simply shook his head.

"According to my files, your father died in a fishing accident in Miami?"

"Yes. Deep sea fishing."

"What happened exactly?"

"Um, well, the details are hazy and they don't really know how it happened, but my dad somehow fell in the water and drowned."

"You sound doubtful..." John said, scribbling notes.

"Well, yeah, I mean, my dad and his friends are very experienced...it's really their only hobby...My dad was a very experienced swimmer...but accidents happen I guess...if it was an accident...."

She sighed a little, her eyes getting dewy as she looked down at her lap. She composed herself quickly and looked at them.

"Tristan is completely beside himself, he feels responsible...of course I didn't tell him about the phone calls...I don't know if that would make him feel better or worse...."

"Tell me about the phone calls," John said, not looking up from his notes.

"Uh, well, I would get these calls...my dad would call me...in the middle of the night and he would...cry."

"Cry?"

"Yes, he would be crying and telling me that he was dying and would beg for my help...practically wailing...and I would ask him what he needed and I asked him if he wanted me to come over...but then he'd hang up."

"Did you ask him about this?"

"Yeah, and he denied it...so I thought, well, maybe I'm dreaming, but Ted heard it on the other line too...so I thought, maybe my dad is trying to tell me something...."

"Like what?"

"Well...that he was depressed...so I booked a ticket to go see him...and the next day..." she took a shuddering breath "he was gone...."

"You think he hurt himself intentionally?"

She shrugged, looking at well manicured fingers on her lap, a large diamond engagement ring glimmered on her finger.

"I don't think that he would...but I don't know...it seems like the only explanation...."

"Tristan was the one who pulled him out of the water?"

"Yeah, my cousin- well, first cousin once removed- he saw my dad fall in and jumped in after him, told me that dad sank like he had rocks in his pockets...Tristan managed to pull him out, but it was too late....If I tell Tristan that dad was depressed and may have fallen in on purpose, he'd blame himself for not noticing...but he blames himself now...."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Ms Fanning, did the phone calls continue after your father died?"

Delilah looked up at them, her eyes narrowed.

" _What_?"

 

"If you're here to sell me some funeral package, you can get off of my doorstep," the woman said the moment she opened the door. She wore large sunglasses, her short auburn hair was tied back in a hair clip and she had her bag slung over her shoulder, obviously just leaving.

Dean knew from her file that she was Eloisa Hurley, cousin to deceased Morgan Allen.

"That's not what we're here for ma'am," John said.

"Well you'd better state your business as quickly as possible, because we're on our way out. RHONDA!!!"

"We want to know more about what happened to your cousin."

"Why? So you can not believe me also. I showed your little friends the report from the phone company and you people still don't believe me."

"Maybe we can help-"

"Rhonda! Damn it, get down here! We have to go!"

"Mrs. Hurley-"

" _Ms_.-Jesus, _there_ you are!"

A beautiful girl who looked to be about eighteen appeared in the doorway. She also wore sunglasses and had long, strawberry blonde hair tied back in a loose braid that went to her perfect (Dean noticed as she walked behind her mother) ass.

"When would be a good time for us to come back?"

John couldn't seem to keep the irritation out of his voice when he said this.  

Eloisa sighed as she got into the driver's side of her car, Rhonda already in the passenger's side, her arms crossed and her face turned, looking out the window.

"Give me your card and I'll call you when we can talk properly," said Eloisa.

John handed her the card with his cell phone number on it and he and Dean watched as the two women drove away.

 

Dean stared at his phone, wanting desperately to call Sam...just to hear his voice. They had just pulled up to the last house on the list: Stella Butler, mother of deceased Aiden Butler.

The house looked abandoned, and Dean doubted very much that anyone would be there as they walked up the path to the front door.

John knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He rang the doorbell.

Nothing.

He tried the doorbell one last time.

Nothing.

They were about to turn around and head back to their car when they heard the lock click slowly on the other side of the door. The door cracked open and all that could be seen was one bloodshot eye through the opening.

"What do you want?" a tired voice asked on the other side.

"Hello, Mrs. Butler, I'm sorry to trouble you."

John held up his fake badge that the eye blinked at on the other side.

She opened the door all the way so that they could see her. She was a short woman in her 40's, her hair obviously dyed black, and her figure was slight, as though she hadn't eaten in a while.

"I've already told you people," she said, her voice hoarse from crying, "I don't know who sold Aiden those drugs. I didn't even know that he did them...he was never really the type."

"It's not about that. Could we come in and ask you a few questions?" John asked in a voice that Dean could tell was intended to be gentle.

"Fine," she sniffed, turning and heading into the house. John and Dean followed her and she curled up on a sofa where a blanket was, the coffee table in front of it littered with framed pictures all facing her. John sat in the armchair that had been arranged in front of her and Dean sat on a chair that obviously belonged in the dining room, but had most likely been set out for the last people who came to interrogate her.

"Mrs. Butler, you told the police that you had been getting phone calls from your son before he passed."

"That's right."

"Could you tell me more about those?"

"Not much to say. Like I told the last people, he would call me in the middle of the night, sobbing uncontrollably, telling me that he was dying and that he needed me..."

Tears welled up in the woman's eyes and she brought her hand up to her mouth as she let the moment pass, trying to collect herself.

"When I asked him about it later on he told me that he didn't know what I was talking about. I guess that was the drugs talking...."

"Did he tell you, when he called, how he was going to die?"

She shook her head.

"No, he just said that he was dying and that I needed to be with him so that it wouldn't happen...I told Aiden the things he had told me and I told him that I wanted to come visit him...that I was worried...he told me not to. He was just wrapping up a summer program that he was doing and he said that he would come visit as soon as he was done with it...I bought him the ticket...he was supposed to arrive yesterday...."

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

Dean sat in awkward silence, not sure if he should comfort her...not like he would know how.

John, on the other hand, took one of the frames from the coffee table and the two of them looked at it.

A young man with glasses and red hair smiled from the photo. He was pointing at a letter in his other hand, his grin wide and excited.

"Mrs. Butler, can you tell me what's happening in this picture?" John asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes, calming down.

"That's when he got his acceptance to Penn State...got a full scholarship...I wouldn't have been able to send him...after his father died, what I could put away for college over the years was meager at best."

Dean's mind immediately flashed to Sam.

The Winchesters had _nothing_.

_Maybe Sam could get a scholarship or something...he's definitely smart enough...._

"We're just lucky my husband's family had this house paid off...I would never have been able to afford it...that's why I just _can't_ believe that he did drugs..."

Dean noticed that John was staring at her intently now.

"He would have lost his scholarship."

 

"Have anything yet?" Dean asked into the phone, happy that Sam had answered his call until he realized that Sam had no other choice due to the case they were working on.

"Well, it could be a psychic ghost, a live psychic, a Banshee or a Korrigan...that's all I've got so far with what we know."

"A little vague don't you think?"

Sam sighed on the other end.

"Well then, help me. Any specifics on your end to report?"

"Nothing we didn't know already. Everything they've told us is pretty much in the report...but Aiden apparently wasn't the drug type and Terrance's daughter thinks that his death was a suicide."

"Okay. Are you thinking there's a chance that they could all be suicides?" Sam asked.

"Possibly. We still have to talk to Eloisa Hurley."

"Okay," Sam said dismissively.

There was silence for a minute and Dean looked over at where his father was standing, talking on his cell phone, completely distracted.

"Sammy..."

There was silence for a minute and then "what?"

"Nothing happened. I swear, that hickey-"

"Is there anything else you need to tell me about the case?"

Dean ran a hand over his face in frustration.

"No, but-"

"Then this conversation is over."

Sam hung up on the other end.

Dean stared down at his phone.

"Fuck."


	8. Chapter 8

 

After Sam had relayed his information to John and Dean, the latter and former both disappeared from the motel room within minutes of each other, which was all well and good for Sam, who just wanted to be alone for now.

His mind couldn't stop going back to that hickey...even though Dean had tried to assure him that nothing had happened, obviously a _hickey_ had happened, and anything leading up to or following it, Sam wanted to know nothing about. He was on his back, staring at the ceiling when he heard his phone ring.

_It's probably Dean._

He snatched the phone up without looking and hit the answer button.

" _What_?"

"I'm terribly sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

It was Barton.

Sam sat up abruptly and combed a hand through his hair.

"No no no! I'm sorry, I thought you were my brother."

"I can't imagine what he's done to receive a greeting like that."

"He can be an asshole sometimes."

"An asshole that protects and cares about you. Be grateful," Barton's soft voice chastised from a distance.

Sam kicked himself internally.

Barton would probably have done anything to have _his_ older brother back, and here he was complaining about Dean.

"So, what's up?" Sam asked.

"I just called to see how you are," Barton said softly from the other end.

"I'm fine," Sam said, knowing that he sounded anything but.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're not telling me something."

Sam bit his lip.

_I'm hiding your sister from you...my boyfriend and I are taking a break, which is totally my fault...my boyfriend can't keep it in his pants, and I can't forgive him...and maybe he's not my boyfriend anymore...oh and have I mentioned, he's also my brother?_

"I'm just going through some stuff in my head right now..." Sam said truthfully.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"I really want to..." Sam said, resting his head against the wall. "I really really do...."

"I understand," said the soothing voice on the other end. "You know you can always talk to me, but I won't pressure you."

Sam melted against the wall and sighed.

"How's your case going?" Barton asked, graciously giving Sam an out of this conversation.

"It might be a Korrigan or a Banshee...can either of those things make you kill yourself?"

"A Korrigan more like. Banshees are mostly benevolent, though they are known from time to time to spirit people away. Korrigans on the other hand can be quite malicious. They're more likely to harm you, especially if you have a religious background."

"How do you kill them?"

"They're _fay_ , so iron is your best bet."

"How do we find it?"

"I think they like to hang around water...the females do anyway...I'm assuming its female anyway, they're much more violent...they usually take the form of a beautiful woman with long hair. They don't go out in the daytime much, from what I can remember. They use their feminine whiles to tempt men into their beds."

Sam groaned.

"Ugh. I'll keep an eye on Dean."

Barton chuckled.

"And who's going to keep an eye on you?" Barton asked.

Something in his voice made Sam's stomach flutter and he felt himself blushing and at that moment was very happy Barton couldn't see him.

"I've been meaning to...talk to you abut something...by the way...."

The butterflies in Sam's belly became bats as his nervousness rose.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if you've thought about it at all...and I don't blame you if you haven't..."

Sam took a deep breath.

"But...um...have you thought about what school you're going to?"

Sam let out the breath abruptly.

"What?"

"School? What college do you plan on attending?"

"I never really thought that was an option for people like us."

"It can be, if you let it."

"I don't know," Sam said genuinely. "Where are you going?"

"I haven't really decided...I think I want to stay in California."  
"Have you been accepted anywhere?"

"Yes...a few places, actually, so I have choices...I hate that sometimes..."

_You're telling me._

"What are you majoring in?"

"Psychology."

Sam smiled.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Just want to give back a little...you know?"

"And saving people from monsters isn't giving back?"

"Yes, and look at the state we leave them in."

Sam could hear sadness in Barton's voice.

"I see what you mean..."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something...else I wanted to talk to you about-"

"Barton!" Sam heard Wendy say on the other end, her voice urgent.

"Oh, um, Sam I have to go. Can we talk later?"

"Anytime," Sam said.

He hit the end button of his phone and let out another nervous breath, scratching his head and turning to make his way to the bathroom.

_I should probably call Dean and tell him about the Korrigan-_

"JESUS!"

Dean was standing by the crappy table, a bag of food in one hand, his other one held up in a pose of surrender.

"Call me Dean."

"What the fuck, Dean? How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. Why? Did I miss out on some hot phone sex between you and your boyfriend?"

Sam rolled his eyes, red hot anger boiling inside of him.

"No, he's going to call in a few minutes; I thought I'd have more time, you know, with you going out and screwing any nasty bimbo who would leave hickeys all over you."

"For your information, it wasn't a girl who gave me this hickey."

Sam's heart dropped.

Okay, so maybe Sam had thought Dean was a little uncomfortable with his sexuality...and maybe Sam had thought that was why he hadn't taken Sam when he had offered so many times...and maybe Sam had thought that Dean had been screwing girls lately out of some kind of deep rooted insecurity...

  
_And maybe now I realize that he just doesn't want_ me _...._  


Dean seemed to regret his words almost as soon as they had left his mouth, because now he was staring at Sam, his green eyes wide.

"Sammy-"

But Sam was having none of it. He snatched up his backpack, stuffed his cell phone in his pocket and stormed to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"None of your fucking business!"

Dean made to come after him, but Sam slammed the door and slipped into the fresh darkness and had successfully made himself virtually vanish when he heard Dean calling his name into the humid night.

He walked faster, not knowing where he was going.

He pulled out his phone and texted Barton.

_"Can we talk?"_

The phone rang less than a minute later.

"What's wrong?" Barton said at once.

"I'm sorry, I know I just talked to you, and I know you're busy-" Sam's eyes were filling up with tears and he knew they were in his voice.

"Stop apologizing and tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," Sam said plainly, slipping into an ally between two stores and leaning against the wall, finally taking a breath. "I just...wish you were here...."

"So do I...."


	9. Chapter 9

Dean listened to the beeping on the other end. Barton's line was still busy.

"Damn it!"

He hung up the phone and dialed another number.

It rang twice before a woman's voice answered.

"I _know_ you've misdialed," she said coolly on the other end.

"Is Barton with you?"

As usual, Dean put a generous helping of demanding anger in his voice to hide his absolute panic.

"He's in his room, and on the phone. We're on our way out, we have a job-"

"Wendy, please! This is important. Okay? I need to know if he's talking to Sam."

"What's going on?"

"Sam's run away from me, and I need to know where he is!"

"What did you do?"

"Are you fucking serious? Just do what I asked!!"

"Don't get your knickers all up in a bunch, Romeo. Give me a minute and I'll call you back."

"Wendy, don't hang up-"

But it was too late, the line was already dead.

"God _damn_ it, Wendy!!! Fuck!"

Dean barely resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room.

The only thing that kept the phone from being in a million pieces was that Dean needed it to find Sam.

Dean didn't even want to bother thinking about what would happen to him if John found out that Sam was missing, not that Dean would have really cared...John could beat him bloody and it wouldn't come _near_ to the pain of losing Sam.

_What the fuck did I do?_

Dean snatched up his car keys and was about to go start driving around when his phone began to ring.

"Where is he?" Dean demanded.

"He didn't tell me where he was."

Barton sounded wrecked on the other end which only served to heighten Dean's anxiety to a whole new level.

"You were just on the phone with him-"

"Dean, someone's with him...he started talking to someone and then our connection got cut off...."

Dean focused all of his energy on the hunt...tried to slow his heart rate down...tried not to think of Sam in someone's basement somewhere....

"You think he hitched?"

"I don't know...."

"I'm going to go find him."

Dean hung up and left the motel.

 

"Sam, tell me where you are at least?"

"Why? Are you going to come get me?"

"I just want to make sure you're in a safe place..."

"Well, I-"

Sam felt something touch his shoulder and he whirled around backing away.

"Sam?" Barton said worriedly on the other end. "Sam!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Sam? Who are you talking to?"

Daphne held an index finger to her lips and mouthed "hang up."

"Sam! What's going on?"

He did as he was told and hung up on Barton.

"What are you doing here?" Sam repeated, looking Daphne over like she was some kind of mirage.

She shrugged, putting her hands in her jean pockets, her hemp bag over her shoulder.

"I suppose we were meant to bump into each other," Daphne said, pulling her hand out of her pocket, an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

Sam didn't know what to say, but just stood and gaped at her.

"Got a light?" she asked, a smile on her lips and a glint in her cold blue eyes.

Sam nodded and reached into his own pocket. Years of salt and burns had trained him to keep fire handy.

He lit her cigarette for her and she took a drag, her eyes never leaving Sam...watching him calculatedly, the way he had often seen Wendy look when she thought no one was paying attention. After a moment of thought, Daphne smiled her sweet smile.

"Running away?"

Sam stared at her.

He hadn't really thought about it...

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "You?"

"Past tense," she said dismissively, taking another drag. "But you already knew that, didn't you, Sam?"

Sam crossed his arms and shrugged again.

"You've kept our little secret," Daphne said, looking Sam over. "Trouble in paradise, love?"

Sam said nothing.

"Trust me...I don't blame you..." Daphne stared straight ahead, deep in thought. "I'll make a deal with you, Sam. Don't tell my brother or sister that you've seen me here and I'll help you run away."

Her eyes flickered back into focus on Sam, who thought for a moment before saying "Done. Where are we going?"

Daphne shook her head slowly.

"No, Sam. Not right now...we need to do this properly....When the time comes, I'll find you...then you can decide if you really want to go...."

"And if I do?"

Daphne dropped her cigarette on the ground and crushed it under a sandal.

"Then they'll never find you."

Sam felt his heart speed up.

Pain, betrayal, and hope filled him as the prospect hummed in his mind.

He could leave...he could start a new life...he never belonged here to begin with, and he always knew it.

_Dean...._

_Dean doesn't want you._

Sam's heart hardened as the anger rose inside of him again...stony resolve turning his thoughts into ice.

"Promise?"

The corner of her mouth twitched up into a smile that looked so sad....

"Cross my heart."

 

Dean drove aimlessly in the dark, stopping at every place that Sam could heave reached and asked around. No one had seen him. He tried not to panic...tried not to think of how desperately he needed his Sam alive...

_And in my arms...._

_Why the fuck did I say that shit?_

_He's probably dead somewhere, gone and there's nothing I can do about it and it's all my fault, I was supposed to protect him and now he's gone and I can't! There's no reason anymore! Why keep going? I can't! I CAN'T-_

Dean pulled over to steady his breathing.

_Get yourself together. You're never going to find him if you keep this shit up...._

The voice in his head chastised.

He grasped the steering wheel with both hands and fought back the sorrow.

His phone rang and he snatched it up.

"Sam?"

"No, it's me."

_Dad. SHIT!_

"Yes, sir...sorry...."

"Where are you?"

"I'm just, um...a little outside of town...."

"Well get back here, we have an early start tomorrow and you need to look as though you have a regular nine to five."

"You're at the motel?"

"Yes, now come back-"

"Dad-sir...."

"What is it?"

"It's about Sam...."

"You need to talk to him?"

Dean's heart dropped.

"What do you mean talk to him? You mean he's _there_?"

"Where the Hell else would he be?"

Dean couldn't believe his ears.

"You...you can see him right now?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? Get your ass back here, Sam's got research and we have shit to do!" John barked into the phone and then hung up.

Dean stared at his phone for a minute, his feelings swirling in the brutal blender of uncertainty until finally-

"Thank you to whatever God is out there! Thank you thank you _thank you_!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope the week is finding you all well! I intend on writing all weekend long, so I hope to have more up for you guys soon! Thank you for your love and patience!

 

Dean flung the motel door open, causing both John and Sam to turn to the door abruptly.

"What the Hell, Dean?" John grumbled without much heat, going back to his files that were spread out on the table.

But Dean ignored his father, his eyes not leaving Sam's deep blue ones. He wanted to run to him...wanted to shove his hands in his hair and kiss him, feel his pulse in his fingers as they moved down his neck...and then strangle him for scaring the absolute _shit_ out of him.

Sam's eyes, which had been cold at first suddenly softened. Dean didn't know why until he realized that his vision was blurred and he was blinking back tears of relief and rage.

"So, what are we dealing with?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak but John stepped in.

"Sam thinks it might be a Korrigan. These calls came at night, which fit their repertoire. They're psychic and malicious, shape shifters and they don't like to get caught, so they make most of their kills appear to be accidents...We've just got to figure out what the victims did to piss them off...."

"Oh, what? They don't kill for fun?" Dean scoffed.

"Usually, the people that they attack are of a religious background...." Sam ventured, shrugging when both men stared at him.

"Well, whatever the reason, we've got to figure it out before it starts up again. I've already alerted any hunters in the area tell me if anyone reports any strange calls...." John stood up suddenly, as though he had just remembered something. "I have to get a map of town."

John grabbed his truck keys and headed for the door.

"Right now? Don't we have to head out early?" Sam called after him.

John turned his head a little so he could say "Mind your business, boy."

Sam's eyes were glowing with fury, and Dean watched as he visibly clamped his mouth shut to keep from throwing out some retort. Dean was grateful for it...anything to somewhat preserve what little good mood John had left....

They watched as John walked out the door, like he had done so many times before, and shut it behind him.

Dean turned back to Sam.

"What the _hell_ , Sam? I thought you were in _trouble_! Something could have happened to you!" Dean began to shout. But Sam had closed the distance between the two of them while Dean had been watching John go and now wrapped his arms around Dean's waist burying his head in Dean's neck. Dean let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he let his arms fall around Sam, pulling him closer.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to scare you...I just had to go...."

Dean was barely paying attention. He pressed his face into Sam's hair and let his eyes drop shut as he revelled in their closeness. He thought he had known how hard it had been these past few months without Sam...had known how much he had wanted to be close again....

But this....A fucking Werewolf could burst into the room and eat him alive and he'd die happy...happy in Sam's arms.

"Fuck, Sam..." Dean gasped eloquently against Sam's ear. "Don't _ever_ do that to be again...I _need_ you...."

Sam pulled away gently and Dean had to stifle his urge to cling tighter to him...to never let him go.

Sam's nose brushed Dean's, their lips so close Dean could feel puffs of moist hot air brush against them as Sam panted. Dean heard the blood inside of him roaring as his fingers came up to brush a strand of soft brown hair out of Sam's face, watching as the younger man shivered under his touch. Sam's eyes drifted shut for a moment as Dean caressed his Sammy's cheek with his thumb. Dean couldn't help himself as he let his thumb brush over Sam's soft lips feeling the hot moisture against his skin, his dick getting so hard he knew Sam could feel it. Sam opened his eyes, giving him a heated stare until his eyes flickered to the mark on Dean's neck. Dean brought both hands to cup Sam's face and leaned their foreheads together. Sam was already getting taller than Dean, so it wasn't hard to do.

"Nothing happened, Sammy," Dean whispered against Sam's lips. "Nothing happened that night...with him-"

Sam brushed his lips against Dean's, nipping Dean's bottom lip with his teeth. Dean let out a needy whimper that at any other time he would have been embarrassed came out of his mouth. Sam kissed him softly but thoroughly, making Dean melt into him, combing his fingers through his brother's hair and lapping his tongue against Sam's, tasting him for the first time in months. Sam deepened the kiss, attacking Dean's more fervently and rubbed Dean's bulge through his jeans causing Dean to cry out in surprise and pull back a little, panting, trying to compose himself.

"I missed you, Dean...I missed this..." Sam groaned into Dean's ear as he rubbed Dean's cock through his pants.

" _You're_ the one who wanted space- _fuck_!"

Sam unbuttoned Dean's jeans and was pulling down the zipper.

" _You're_ the one who doesn't trust me," Sam replied, dipping his hand down Dean's now open pants.

Dean let out a groan as Sam wrapped his nimble fingers around Dean's heavy cock.

"How can I? With you running away- _AH_!"

Sam's thumb rubbed the head of Dean's cock, using his precum to slick up his cock.

"You trust me with this, don't you?"

Sam started pumping Dean's dick with delicious skill and all Dean could do was moan.

"Don't you?" Sam repeated, his eyes filled with heat as he licked his lips.

Dean nodded, pulling Sam in for another kiss. Sam attacked Dean's mouth with his own, pumping Dean harder, finding that carnal rhythm that matched Dean's need.

"You trust me with your life?"

Dean nodded, feeling the heat pool inside of him, his body ready for release.

"Trust me to find the right monster and tell you how to kill it?"

Dean clung to Sam, burying his face in Sam's shirt to muffle his cry as he came. He took a deep steadying breath, taking in the smell of Sam. His knees were weak as he leaned against him, panting, fisting the fabric of Sam's shirt.

"Then why don't you trust me to know what's best for me?" Sam continued softly.

Dean shook his head, trying to gather himself up.

"You don't trust _me_ , Sammy?"

Dark blue eyes snapped to meet Deans.

"I _do_ trust you."

Dean pulled Sam close to him, feeling the hardness in his brother's pants and letting his eyes flicker down and then back into Sam's eyes, giving him a sly grin. Sam apparently took the meaning because he was turning a lovely shade of red.

"I am..." Dean kissed Sam slowly, letting his hands fall to Sam's toned ass and squeezing it, "...so tired of this conversation."

Sam's eyes were flickering from Dean's lips to his eyes and then back again, obviously very distracted by Dean's seductive tone.

"Get in the bed..." Dean was unbuckling Sam's belt now, "and take off _all_ your clothes..." Sam was panting and flushed, his eyes filled with lust. "Because you, bitch, have been depriving me for _way_ too long...."

Sam's eyes suddenly sobered and he looked down at the floor.

"Is that why you fucked that girl?"

Dean sighed, touching their foreheads together.

"Sammy, I-"

A happy melodic ring began to sound and Dean groaned, pulling himself away.

"Mine or yours?"

Sam pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"Not mine."

Dean let out an exasperated noise and went digging through his own pockets.

"How the Hell did we end up with the same ringtone?" He hit the answer button. " _He_ llo?"

"Did you find him?"

It was Barton, and despite his calm tone, it was the worst that Dean had ever heard him sound.

_Shit, I forgot to call him!_

"Yeah, he's here...."

Sam looked at him questioningly, which looked so much like a puppy tilting his head that Dean wanted to drop the phone and start making out with him again.

"May I...talk with him, please? If he wants to speak with me, that is...."

Dean held out the phone and Sam glanced at it before taking it and holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Sam's eyes were filled with such guilt and emotion all of the sudden that Dean felt that familiar pang of jealousy.

_What if I've lost him for good? All because of my stupid fucking impulses...._

Dean let his eyes wander away from Sam and they landed on Sam's backpack where something was sticking out of it. He turned to look at Sam who had sat down on the bed and was talking Barton down in calm tones. Dean went closer and saw that it was a rather large pair of headphones. He glanced at Sam, who was hunched over on the bed, one hand covering his face while the other held the phone to his ear. Dean unzipped the bag a little and saw the headphones were attached to a Walkman...a little piece of paper was taped to it...

A note...

Dean was tempted to open it up...to see what was written there, but Sam was suddenly standing beside him. Dean, seeing that he had been caught and there was no denying it anymore, plucked the CD player out of the bag.

"I didn't know you got a CD player."

He looked up at Sam, trying to get an answer just to find Sam staring at it, just as confused at its presence as Dean was.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see a little bit of delightful smut....They have a long way to go...and much worse things ahead...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait everyone! It's been crazy over here, but I do give this all of my free time! I'll never leave you...unless I die randomly...then sorry....

 

Sam woke up before anyone else did. John was back and laying on the sofa, his eyes closed and arms crossed. Dean was in the other bed, deep in sleep and facing Sam.

He stared at the sleeping face for a few moments, emotions plaguing his mind.

He wanted to stay...he wanted to be with Dean...he wanted to forgive and forget and move on....

_How long before he follows his dick to the nearest bar and fucks someone else?_

_It's not like that and you know it...._

His eyes wandered to the CD player that was lying on the floor between the beds. He knew it was Daphne's and knew that she would be coming back for it...when she'd come to collect Sam.

_And then I'll be free...._

He looked back at Dean again, his heart wrenching.

He had come back the night before and Dean had been gone...out looking for Sam....

Sam had been so furious that he had thought it served Dean right to have a little scare.

But then Dean had returned, and his eyes had been filled with such relief...and betrayal....

He had let himself be swept away...Dean tasted so good...smelled like home and _Dean_...It had felt so good to kiss him again...to touch him....

_I'm fucking trapped...._

Sam knew that he and Daphne could run to the other side of the world, but Dean would always be the only one for him...nowhere would ever be home without him....

As thought Dean could hear his thoughts, his eyes drifted open and met Sam's.

Sam's breath stopped and he quickly rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling.

A sound pierced the morning silence that caused both of the boys to sit up in their beds. By the time Sam had identified the sound as being John's cell phone, his father had answered it.

"Detective John Cooper."

Dean was slipping out of the bed, and Sam had to make a conscious effort not to stare at Dean's half naked body.

"Today is fine. I'm available at 8 am," John said curtly into the phone.

Dean headed straight to the bathroom, while Sam put on a t shirt and headed towards the kitchen. He glanced over at the table where framed photographs were lying everywhere. He stopped to take a closer look.

People smiled from behind their glass prisons. Many of them featured an older woman with hair the color of copper. From one picture she smiled with a young woman with strawberry blonde hair and grey blue eyes. Another, she was on a roller coaster with another woman a bit younger than she, but the resemblance was striking.

_Sister? Cousin?_

In another picture, she was out camping. Her and a younger man with bright red hair were holding up twin peace signs, tents in the process of being pitched around a campfire nestled in the heart of some forest.

"Dean, we've got one hour. Let's go!" John called, flipping open his journal and skimming the words that he had apparently written the night before. "Sam, you stay here and look at these pictures. I need you to tell me where she was and what she was doing. Go over the case files for the other victims and figure out if any of them may have visited the same place. If Korrigans hang around bodies of water, then we need to know which one it was."

Sam nodded and looked at the sprawl of memories again.

"Who was this?" Sam asked, touching the smiling face unconsciously, as though he could ask her himself.

"Morgan Allen. Dean and I are going to talk to her cousin at eight," John was throwing on his professional clothes.

"How did you get these? _When_ did you get these?"

These didn't seem like the types of things that someone would just _give away_.

"Never you mind," John said absently as he slipped his shoes on. "If I call you, the password is 'Karloff.'"

Sam looked at him questioningly.

John caught the look as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Korrigans can mimic voices and even shape shift. We need to take precautions...could have caught wind by now."

"Yeah...cuz they're psychic..." Sam mumbled, deciding not to point out that a Password would thus be useless against something that can read your mind and see the future.

Wasn't _Sam_ the one who figured it out to begin with?

Sam looked back at the photos again and he felt a pang of sympathy when he thought about how much Morgan Allen had thought of the future. Sam remembered from her report that she hadn't had any children, but she had remained incredibly close with her family. She had led a full, fun and active life in her short time on this rock. From the looks of the photos, she had taken very good care of herself. She had been happy. Sam looked at the picture of her at her camping trip.

When that photo had been taken she hadn't known how her life was going to end. This was the beginning of a camping trip, and at that moment, she didn't know that she would die in an alleged car accident...didn't know that her stuff was going to be nicked in the dead of night by a monster hunter...all she had been thinking about at that moment was finishing setting up camp.

_Tomorrow is a hope, not a promise...._

_And what about my tomorrow?_

At this rate, Sam's "tomorrow" would come sooner than most, bloodier than most and lonelier than most....

_I'll have Dean...._

Sam remembered Daphne standing in the alley, a cigarette between her fingers.

_"They'll never find you...."_

"Let's go, Dean! We have to hit a few places before we meet with Mrs. Hurley."

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, finishing his buttons and looking absolutely edible-

_Stop it stop it stop it stop it!!_

Dean caught his eye and a little smirk flashed across his features. Sam could feel himself blushing hot as he gathered the pictures carefully, trying to avoid eye contact with either of his companions.

"Listen for our call, Sam," John said before disappearing out the door.

Dean looked Sam over and gave him a quick sly smile heading out the door behind his father, shutting the door behind him.

Sam released his breath and covered his face in his hands.

_What the fuck am I going to do?_

Suddenly, he heard the door open again and he let his hands drop just in time to see Dean walking towards him with purpose. Before Sam could say anything, Dean cupped Sam's face in his hands and brushed his lips against Sam's.

Sam felt himself melting into Dean's touch as their lips met in a chaste kiss.

Dean let his hands slip away and he grinned his cocky grin that he always had when he knew he had won.

Without another word, Dean grabbed John's badge off of the table, without taking his eyes off of Sam.

"I'll see you when we get back."

Sam's legs felt like jelly as he stared into the green of Dean's eyes, unable to form a sentence as he watched Dean slide out the door again after giving him a little wink.

The door shut again.

_What the fuck am I going to do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get into Sam's head here....I think it's so interesting how complex both Sam and Dean are for very different reasons, which is why they are so perfect together!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you guys enjoy this next installment! I know it's not like the previous parts of the series, but it is an important part of the timeline...

 

Dean sat and waited patiently in the car staring at the little house in which his father had disappeared. He glanced at his cell phone and contemplated for a second before shaking himself out of it.

He couldn't forget the way that Sam had touched him...he had been aggressive and commanding...a side of Sam that Dean seldom saw...but it was so hot when it came out.

_How much longer do I have to be without him?_

Dean rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb remembering the feeling of Sam's lips against them.

_This isn't fair._

_It's only as fair as you make it._

That annoying voice in his head chimed in.

Dean leaned his head back and let out a groan of frustration. He was caught between his need and his guilt. All he wanted was Sam. He could get through this stupid shit...work as a hunter, a bartender, a fucking burger flipper, Dean didn't care, he just wanted Sam...he could do anything if he had _Sam_.

_It's not about what you want._

The voice said.

_It's about what you deserve._

_Yeah? And who asked you?_

Dean rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, annoyed. Letting out a groan.

_And here I am, having arguments with myself...like a crazy person...I'm going crazy...what's taking dad so long in there?_

_Maybe you should talk to Sam...._

_Like I haven't tried!_

_He seems much more receptive now...._

_Receptive?! He ran away-_

"Dean!"

Dean jumped and looked over where his father was bent over, staring at him through the open window. John's eyes looked wild and they flickered, searching in the inside of the car for a second before they landed back on his oldest son.

"Who else is here?" John asked in a gruff, demanding voice. "Where did they go?"

Dean stared at his father for a moment, confused, before saying "No one, sir...I'm alone...."

John's glare was piercing, as though he was searching Dean's soul for the lie. Then he straightened up and walked to the driver's side, getting in and starting the car.

Dean looked straight ahead of him.

"Sir?"

"What?" John growled.

Dean cleared his throat, nervous for so many reasons.

"Password?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw is father turn to look at him.

"Karloff," John responded, his eyes glanced over to Dean, a proud smile flashing over his face so quickly Dean almost thought he imagined it...almost.

 

Eloisa's daughter, Rhonda, was the one who opened the door. She stepped aside to let John in, looking Dean over with blatant interest as he passed to follow his father, avoiding her gaze. She was a beautiful girl, now that he could see her without her sunglasses. Long strawberry blonde hair and grey blue eyes under long dark eyelashes...the kind of girl anyone could fall completely in love with...if his heart wasn't already completely on fire for someone else....

"Rhonda, get these gentlemen some coffee," Eloisa Hurley said. Considering the hour, she looked magnificent. She couldn't have been taller than 5'4" but the way she carried herself, standing straight as a pole and motioning gracefully for them to sit down, made her seem like a giant. Dean and John sat down opposite of Eloisa and Rhonda returned to the sitting room with a tray, pouring coffee out of a nice pot for both of the men. She then sat down beside her mother, crossed her legs and eyed John and Dean with interest.

"You have questions," Eloisa prompted, her voice crisp and to the point.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened from beginning to end," John said with mirrored curtness.

"I was getting phone calls from Morgan," she dove in, "in the middle of the night. She would be crying, begging for me to help her. She told me that she was dying."

John nodded, the file open in his lap, pen at the ready to take any additional notes.

"Well, she doesn't live far from here, so I went to visit her. I asked if everything was alright, and she thought I was ridiculous for asking. Regardless, I got more phone calls. I entertained the idea that perhaps my cousin was depressed or taking some kind of medication that wasn't mixing well with her chemistry. I stayed with her for a week and Rhonda stayed here in the meantime."

John turned his attention to Rhonda.

"Did you get any calls while your mom was gone?"

Rhonda shrugged and shook her head.

"I checked Morgan's house thoroughly while I was there," Eloisa continued, "trying to find drugs, or medications that could have made her do things without remembering. I found nothing. Not so much as an _aspirin_. My cousin is such a holistic health nut-"

Eloisa stopped dead mid sentence and glanced down at her hands for a moment, looking annoyed, then she looked back at the men.

"Was...she _was_ a holistic health nut....If I complained of a headache she would give me _root tea_."

"What happened when you got back?" John pressed.

"The calls started the night I returned. At this point I was absolutely positive that it wasn't Morgan, probably a prank caller, so we tried to ignore the phone after a certain hour...if it was a friend, they'd leave a message."

"Did you get any messages?"

Eloisa nodded.

"Rhonda," she said, looking over at her daughter, who rose from the couch swiftly, brushing Dean's shoulders with her fingertips softly as she passed. Dean looked from Eloisa to John to see if either of them had noticed, but if they had, they weren't showing any indication.

Rhonda returned with a tape recorder and pressed play.

_"Hello Mrs. Hurley, it's Dr. Sibley. I'm calling with the results to your great grandmother's blood tests. Everything seems fine over here-"_

Rhonda hit the fast forward button and hit play again.

  
_"Lise? Lise?_ " a voice whispered. " _Are you there_?" it whimpered. It was the voice of a woman. " _Eloisa? Please_..." there were tears in the voice. " _Eloisa_!" the voice was becoming stronger. " _ELOISA_!" the voice sounded like an old woman's now. " _ELOISAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH_!!!"

The voice turned into a shrill, bloodcurdling wail that had Dean staring at the recorder, the hairs on the back of his neck was standing on end. Rhonda hit the stop button, cutting the noise off.

Rhonda and her mother were both looking at the recorder in Rhonda's hand. Rhonda's eyes were glittering with unshed tears and Eloisa's eyes were red and puffy. She looked exhausted all of the sudden.

"We got several of these messages. In my mind this had transcended from prank calls into a threat, so I called the phone company to have the number traced. I though I'd file a police report."

"And who's number was it?"

"My own."

Dean and John stared at her for a moment, but she remained stoic and matter of fact.

"I thought that there must have been...some mistake...but they assured me that the calls were coming from my own house."

She straightened up as though ready for a fight and her eyes flickered defiantly between John and Dean to see who would start laughing first. When no one did she took a deep breath.

"Well, that's everything I have, Detective Cooper. Do you have any further questions for me?"

"Yes. Is your family of a religious background by any chance?" John asked. He was now scribbling notes, staring at this paper.

"Religious background?" Eloisa repeated flatly.

"Yes."

"No."

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Hurley," John said, shutting his file and starting to stand up.

"That's it?" Eloisa said, disbelief in her voice.

"That's it," John said, motioning to Dean who stood up.

Eloisa also stood, rigid and abrupt. Rhonda remained on the couch and stared at her mother, her eyes slightly wide.

"So. I get threatening phone calls from some _weirdo_ from my own _house_ and two weeks later my cousin is _dead_ and you want to know if my family has a _religious background_? What the hell kind of detective are you anyway?"

She stood stock still but her grey eyes were ablaze with fury.

John stared back at her with a curious expression on his face...one that told Dean that there was a clue here....

"Did you say," John said slowly, " _two_ weeks?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is always welcome! Sorry about any typos...I've been trying to comb it over after I'm done, but I still miss things :/


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been much more productive these past couple of days! Hope you enjoy the new chapter...nice and tasty ;)

"All of the other victims lasted for only a week after the phone calls started...except for Morgan Allen...it took her _two_ weeks to die," John said as he got in on the driver's side. Dean opened the passenger door when he heard rapid footsteps behind him. He turned to see Rhonda half jogging to catch up with him.

"Hey! Glad I caught you," she said with an adorable smile. She held a piece of paper out to him. He took it to observe it. It was just a regular piece of paper folded in half.

"We haven't been properly introduced," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Rhonda. Rhonda Hurley."

John started the car, obviously impatient to get a move on.

"I'm Dean, nice to meet you," Dean replied, switching the piece of folded paper to his left hand so he could properly shake hers.

She gave him a little half smile.

"Read that in private, okay?" she said, before turning around and walking back towards her house, running her hands through her long hair, her hips swinging pleasantly in tiny jean shorts.

_What parent lets their teenager wear that?_

"Dean! Let's go!"

Without another word, Dean got into the car.

He unfolded the piece of paper.

_"Meet me, 10pm tonight, my place. Come to the front door. We'll be alone."_

At first Dean thought he was some kind of booty call until he read what was written beneath it.

_"Something weird is going on."_

 

"No similar bodies of water that I can find," Sam said.

He had several maps laid out in front of him, and had taken the pictures out of their frames and had laid them out on the table.

Dean observed that he had obviously taken a shower a little after they had left, because his hair was still slightly damp and he wore fresh clothes. There were tiny droplets of mist on Sam's pleasantly tan skin from the humidity and Dean couldn't help the image that popped into his mind as soon as he saw him...an image of Sam wrapped in Dean's arms, their sweaty, naked bodies pressed against one another, Sam's arms wrapped around Dean's neck, Dean's hands on Sam's hips while Sam rode his cock-

"Well you obviously missed something!" John barked. "Look again!"

Sam's dark blue eyes glared as he obviously tried to keep calm.

"I _have_ been looking and there's _nothing_. If you'd like to check it out for yourself, you can."

Sam's voice was flat, and Dean bit his bottom lip.

Sam was so fucking hot when he was mad.

_Maybe I purposely piss him off just to see that face...._

John's phone rang.

"What?" he snapped into it.

There was silence while the person on the other line talked. John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"I was just there this morning! You couldn't have mentioned that while I was _there_?"

More talking on the other end.

"Fine. Fine! I'll be there, give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there!...Yeah, well, it's never _good_ news is it?"

John hung up the phone and tossed the Impala keys on the table.

"I'm taking the truck, Dean," he said gruffly.

He pointed to the maps on the table.

"You two, figure this out."

And with that, he stormed out of the motel room, shutting the door hard behind him.

"Great mood he's in," Sam grumbled, crossing his arms and looking down at the maps. "Did you guys find anything?"

Dean cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the juncture between Sam's neck and his shoulders...where Dean knew Sam loved to be kissed....

"Yeah...I guess Morgan Allen lasted the longest out of all of the victims."

Sam nodded, his dark blue eyes burrowing into his own making Dean have to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Any idea why?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head and was about to go over everything that Eloisa Hurley had said, but what came out of his mouth was "Are we ever going to talk about this?"

Sam's eyebrows came together.

"We _are_ talking about this...."

"About _us_...."

Sam pressed his lips together and let his head drop, his eyes going to the maps.

"No chick flick moments, I thought that was your motto," Sam said in a low voice.

"Sam I fucked up, okay? I fucked up and you gave me over _five_ _months_ to think about it-"

"So you're saying you had sex with that girl because I made you _wait too long_?"

Sam had straightened up, ready for a fight.

"No! I'm saying that for five months I wasn't even sure if you wanted _this_ anymore!" Dean gestured between himself and Sam.

Sam nodded, pain filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. For your information, I've always wanted this...."

Dean felt like he was ready to explode as he stared at those big puppy eyes, the words echoing in his head.

"Still?"

Dean felt like a girl asking, but he couldn't help himself. Dean didn't want much out of life...never had any bright hopes for his present or future...but if there was even a pinhole of a chance....

"Yeah," Sam said in a tiny voice, his eyes watering. "But I'm still _really_ mad at you-"

Sam was cut off. Dean had strode across the room and was crushing his lips against Sam's. Sam opened his mouth to let Dean's tongue slide in and Sam moaned into Dean's mouth causing Dean to deepen his kiss, slipping his hands into Sam's hair.

"I'm still really pissed," Sam whispered before Dean caught his lips in another messy kiss. Dean grabbed Sam's ass and lifted him up onto the table, slamming Sam so hard onto it that he was surprised it didn't break. They were kissing fervently now and Sam wasn't offering any protests...unless that's what those whimpers and moans were....

They were a frenzy of wandering hands against bare skin and lips against lips, tongues touching and invading each other's mouths.

Dean pulled off Sam's shirt and ran his hands over Sam's beautiful body, his cock aching in his jeans. He latched his mouth onto Sam's neck causing Sam to let out a sexy little sound of surprise.

"Dean," Sam said in a half pant half moan, "Dad's coming back...we have to stop..."

Dean leaned their foreheads together and ran his thumbs over Sam's exposed nipples and watched Sam's eyes dropped shut as he let out a moan. Dean licked into Sam's mouth again, savoring the taste of Sam, the smell of him all around him, the feeling of him melting into him.

_I want more..._

_Eighteen eighteen eighteen eighteen eighteen....._

"Fine," Dean's voice came out husky. "But we continue this conversation later."

Sam nodded, his pupils blown out and staring at Dean's lips.

"Later...."

The phone rang, cutting through their haze of lust.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and grabbed at it. He looked so sexy with his hair a mess, his lips red from kissing, and his skin red and flushed from his blood pumping hot in his veins. Dean loved all of this even more because he knew it was _his_ doing. Sam cleared his throat before hitting the answer button and putting the phone against his ear.

"Hello?" Sam said, now staring into Dean's eyes, making his heart beat frantically.

Dean brushed a hair out of Sam's face as he gazed into those deep blue hazels. 

"No, sir. We still haven't found anything...we just need more time-"

The voice on the other end became a little louder, but Sam's eyes never left Dean's.

"I realize that, sir. I'll try a different method....Yes, sir....Yes, I'll tell Dean."

Sam hung up the phone, his eyes burning into Dean's.

"Dad's not going to be back until after midnight," Sam tangled his legs around Dean and latched his lips onto Dean's, grinding himself up against Dean's trapped erection. "Take off your clothes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a continuation of this, so stay tuned <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some delightful porn for you all! I hope you enjoy it! I know my work is super plot heavy, but I do love a good plot with porn! Enjoy everyone!!

 

Sam watched as Dean shed his shirt, the amulet letting out a metallic thump against Dean's bare skin. Sam let his eyes rove over Dean's flawless skin, stopping on each freckle, marking them in his mind. He wanted to kiss every one of them, lick every inch of Dean's body, wanted to touch ever scar with his lips.

Dean's green eyes seemed to glow as he looked Sam over before leaning in to kiss him again, his breathing shaky. Sam slid his hand down Dean's naked chest and could feel his heart beating fast against his fingertips.

He knew that they were going to have to talk about this later...knew that they were going to have to make some changes if they were going to have this relationship and knew it really _wasn't_ going to be easy...but it was fucking worth it.

Dean was unbuckling Sam's belt. Sam could hear his own breathing becoming a steady pant, the anticipation rising inside of him.

_How the Hell did I go this long without it?_

Dean gently cupped Sam's face, his calloused fingertips brushing against his skin, tracing his jawline, thumb brushing against Sam's lips. Sam nipped at it and a smile flickered across Dean's kissable mouth before he pressed another kiss against Sam's.

"God, Sam, I missed you...missed this...."

"Me too," Sam whispered.

Sam wrapped himself around Dean, and Dean lifted him with ease despite his painful growth spurt.

One of the things that he loved so much about Dean...he was so strong...but he was gentle...especially now, while he laid Sam onto his bed, covering his body with his own, kissing him thoroughly, his hands unbuckling Sam's belt deftly. He tugged at the belt, freeing it from Sam's belt loops. Dean used one hand to pin Sam's hands about his head, and used the other to unbutton Sam's pants. Sam felt his dick spring free as Dean pulled down his zipper. Dean let his fingers brush across Sam's cock, teasingly and Sam moaned into Dean's mouth.

"So impatient, Sammy."

Dean's voice was husky and Sam felt his dick get even harder at the sound of his voice. Dean must have felt it too, because he brushed his lips against Sam's ear, whispering into it.

"Does that turn you on?"

"Oh, God, Dean!" Sam whimpered.

Dean bit Sam's earlobe playfully and kissed his ear.

"You like it when I talk to you?"

Sam was panting now, dizzy from the stimulation. He felt something wrap around his wrists and he knew it was his own belt.

Dean secured Sam's hands above his head tightly.

"There's so much I want to do to you, Sammy," Dean growled into his ear. "I want to make you feel so fucking good...."

Dean gave Sam a slow, light kiss on the spot right under his ear, then another on his neck.

He laid more soft kisses along his throat, his lips brushing down between each kiss. He made his way down Sam's chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, holding the belt taught about Sam's head so he couldn't struggle.

Sam let out a lustful cry and bucked his hips as Dean sucked the little nub.

"God _damn_ it, Dean! You're such a tease!" Sam breathed, his voice lost to need and frustration.

" _I'm_ the tease?" Dean whispered against Sam's hip. "Have you _seen_ yourself?"

Dean brushed his nose against Sam's happy trail, his hands slipping down Sam's body, hooking under Sam's pants and pulling them down along with his shorts.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Sam," Dean said, taking Sam into his mouth and giving him a good hard suck.

Sam leaned his head back and released a deep moan.

Dean worked his tongue as he bobbed his head and Sam brought his belt bound hands down to grab at Dean's hair causing Dean to pull up and swirl his wet hot tongue around the tip making Sam gasp. Dean continued at a steady pace, his beautiful, plump lips wrapped around Sam's throbbing cock. The pleasure was building in Sam's belly and he knew that he was teetering the edge of release.

"Dean! I'm gonna come!"

Dean released Sam's dick from his mouth, his lips red and pleasantly swollen. He gave Sam a hot look as he wrapped his hand around Sam's dick and began stroking , rubbing his thumb over the head, all the while watching Sam's face  as he slowly unraveled. Sam wanted to stay composed...wanted to look sexy as he felt his climax coming, but failed completely as he let himself unravel in front of his brother, hot cum escaping his body and dripping onto Dean's hand.

Sam knew that he was probably flushed from their...activities, but he felt his face go hotter when he saw the look on Dean's face, his mouth slightly ajar, and his eyes burning into Sam's, filled with lust. Dean licked his lips and collected some of the sticky cum on his fingers, rubbing them together.

"Sam, get on your hands and knees."

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He flipped onto his belly, and wiggled into the desired position, which was surprisingly difficult due to the soft mattress and his bound hands. He felt the bed shift as Dean took his position behind him...he could hear his heart beating in his ears, his whole body hot from coming and from a little bit of shyness until all thought was evaporated by the invading finger easing into his body. He let out a little hiss, trying to relax his muscles and get used to the feeling...it became easier when the thought occurred to Sam that Dean was probably using his own come as lubricant.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean said in a low growl.

Sam could do nothing but nod at that as the finger pushed deeper into him.

He had been a bit out of practice, what with finals at school and trying to keep his dad in a good mood, Sam hadn't really had much time to touch himself in this more intimate place....Now as Dean added a second finger, he remembered why he loved that feeling so much...that burn with the pleasure...that feeling of being totally taken over. Sam pushed back onto Dean's fingers, his body taking it all in and he heard Dean groan, his other hand raking down Sam's back before settling on his hip, pulling his fingers out and pushing back in, deeper and deeper with every push.

Sam could feel his dick becoming exhaustedly interested again.

"Dean...give me more...."

"Fuck, Sam..." was all Dean seemed to be able to manage from behind him.

"Dean, give me your dick," Sam moaned.

Dean groaned loudly, but then said quickly "You are in no position to be making demands!"

Sam slowly pulled away from Dean, his fingers coming out of him. Sam made a little noise from the loss and maneuvered himself so that he was looking at Dean, facing him in all of his naked glory.

Dean was resting on his knees in front of Sam, his eyes roving over him as though he was starving for what he was seeing, his erection hard and swollen, a drop of pre-cum glistened on the tip. Sam licked his lips and bent forwards to rest on his bound hands as he took Dean's throbbing erection into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Sam," Dean moaned. "Fuck, your mouth is so hot."

Dean pulled away from Sam and Sam looked up at him confused. Dean said nothing but gently pushed Sam until he was lying on his side in the soft blankets. Dean moved up and laid on the bed beside him, his head next to Sam's belly as he began kissing the skin under his belly button, his hands groping Sam's ass and his hard-on in Sam's face.

Sam took the hint and wrapped his lips around Dean's cock again.

Dean moaned and sucked hard on Sam's skin where a mark would surely appear later, his fingers stroking at Sam's opening again.

Sam swallowed Dean down, and he could feel the older brother's breath puff against the fresh mark right before he slipped a finger inside to pick up where he had left off.

Sam hummed around Dean's cock, hollowing his cheeks as he enjoyed the taste of Dean.

Dean pushed the second finger in with general ease now that Sam was warmed up and Sam, in turn, picked up the pace, riding Dean's cock with his mouth, his bound hands stroking the skin of Dean's hip. Dean fingered Sam more steadily, pushing deep into him, changing the angle every time until-

"Oh fuck!!" Sam cried out, panting against Dean's dick, which was wet with saliva. He could feel his cock perking up a second time.  

Dean made a tiny sound of panting triumph as he pushed his fingers back in against that spot making another cry bubble out of Sam's mouth. Dean licked Sam's dick, and he could feel it harden under the lavish attention. Sam latched his mouth back onto the elder's member, making it wet and sloppy, the way he knew his brother liked it. Dean's rebuttal was to take Sam into his mouth again and push his fingers deep inside of him, hitting that delicious spot inside of him in time with his sucking. Sam whimpered and moaned like a whore around Dean's penis. Dean kept up his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper and deeper into Sam, twisting and searching and stretching and _learning_ Sam from the inside out. Even though Sam had already come he was certain that he was going to climax a second time before Dean until he heard Dean let out a deep, gruff sound that vibrated up his body from his rod and his mouth was full of salty, hot semen. He swallowed ever ounce and licked Dean's cock for more while the latter groaned against his belly.

When he seemed to have his bearings, Dean took Sam into his expert mouth to return the favor. With the dual stimulation it took less than a minute to have Sam coming a second time, this time into Dean's needy throat.

They lay in that position for a few minutes before Dean adjusted himself so that he was face to face with his brother. Sam smiled at him and Dean placed a lingering kiss on his lips, gently untying Sam's wrists and wrapping his arms around him. They exchanged soft kisses in the humid motel room, their naked bodies entwined and slick with sweat from the heat of the sweltering summer day and carnal pleasures.


	15. Chapter 15

 

Sam was so beautiful when he slept, Dean observed as he lay beside him.

The daylight was changing around his vision, everything else was in his blurry peripherals, Sam's long dark lashes the only thing Dean's eyes were focused on as he listened to his steady breathing. After their vigorous activities, the satisfaction and the heat had overtaken them, causing them to fall asleep naked in each other's arms on top of the covers. Dean made a mental note that he was going to have to clean this mess up before John got back.

_What the hell is he doing until midnight?_

Sam's eyes fluttered open lazily, as though he could feel Dean's eyes on him. His lips, still red from kissing and pleasuring Dean, turned up into a soft smile that Dean couldn't help but kiss as soon as it appeared. Sam kissed back and snuggled up to Dean who wrapped his arms around him, bumping his nose against Sam's affectionately.

"You hungry?"

Sam took a sleepy breath and mumbled "What time is it?"

"A little past 3pm."

"I could eat...we have to wash up first though."

Dean could feel the mischievous grin appear on his face in spite of himself. Sam looked down at his lips and smiled a bright, genuine smile, a small chuckle huffing out of him.

"We should do that now," Sam said quietly.

"We should do that now," Dean repeated adamantly, nodding his head that was still lying on the pillow.

 

They showered together, Dean washing Sam's hair and Sam helping Dean cover his body with soap suds. It took them a ridiculous amount of time to get clean, what with Sam kissing Dean every chance that he got and Dean being unable to keep his hands off of the body that contained the one thing that he knew he could never live without.

After they had dried off and dressed, Sam stripped the dirty comforter off of the bed while Dean made some sandwiches in the kitchen.

They sat at the little table, a beer in each of their hands as they ate, looking over the files their father had left them, their bare feet finding each other under the table.

"I can't find any body of water that all of the victims have in common," Sam said after some silence, letting out a sigh and tangling his fingers in his dark, damp hair.

"Maybe there's a few of them. Do Korrigans hunt in packs?" Dean offered, taking another swig of his beer.

Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"They're uncommon as it is...."

"Has this happened in this area before?" Dean tried.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to figure that one out," Sam replied, looking at a piece of paper.

"Maybe it's not a Korrigan?"

Sam put the piece of paper down and looked directly at his brother.

Under the table, Dean's foot caressed up and down Sam's leg affectionately.

"What else would it be though? Nothing else fits the profile," Sam said.

"Well the Korrigan doesn't seem to be fitting the profile either," Dean replied.

Sam's eyebrows rose challengingly.

Dean rose his hands in surrender.

"Just sayin'-"

A cell phone rang under the papers somewhere and both of the young men scrambled to find it before it went to voicemail.

Dean found it first.

"Barton," Dean said, trying to keep his displeasure from showing too much as he handed it to Sam. "We really need to change our ringtones."

Sam flipped open his phone.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked casually.

After a few minutes of talking, Sam hung up the phone and sat with Dean again.

Dean looked at him.

"Anything exciting?"

"Yeah, actually...."

"What?"

"Barton did some digging around for me-"

"How sweet of him," Dean grumbled.

"-and said that there's an article in the 1940's about a woman who could predict the death of a loved one before it happened," Sam continued as though he hadn't been interrupted and began rummaging through the pages. "She was known for being able to know whether or not a loved one had died in the war before anyone else knew about it." 

"That's weird. Did she live here in Orlando?" asked Dean, watching as Sam continued to flip through the papers, a look of determination on his face.

"Yeah..." Sam opened files and skimmed them until finally his eyes lit up the way they always did when some important detail had been excavated from the ever illusive mound of evidence that was usually dumped before him. 

"What?" Dean asked, watching those beautiful eyes flicker over the page, loving the view of Sam's brilliant mind at work. 

"Her name was Phyllis O'Malley," Sam said absently. 

Dean stayed silent for a moment, wondering if he should recognize that name. 

"I knew that surname sounded familiar..."

"Care to fill me in, Sam?" Dean asked, not without affection. 

"One of the people who was on the boat with Terrance Fanning was Tristan O'Malley.... "

"That's right. Terrance's daughter was talking about him. You think they're related?" 

Sam shook his head. 

"I don't know...O'Malley is a pretty common last name...but I think you were right, Dean. "

Sam looked up at Dean, their eyes connecting. 

"I don't think it's a Korrigan."

"Looks like we've gotta do some interrogating," said Dean, pulling out his phone and dialing his father's number. Dean wasn't surprised when he got John's voicemail. Once his father's curt voice ended on the other line, Dean spoke. 

"Hey dad, we've got a lead. We've gotta look into a Tristan O'Malley, call me when you get a chance."

 

"Creature from the Black Lagoon" flickered on the television, a half eaten pizza was sitting on the coffee table and Sam and Dean lay curled together on one end of the sofa.

Dean was slowly kissing Sam's long neck, noting all of his most tender spots while Sam basked happily in the attention.

A beeping sound caused Dean to stop his happy exploration. It was the alarm on his watch telling him that it was 9:30pm. He frowned as he turned it off.

"Geeze, time flies," he mumbled, unhappy at the interruption.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, stretching lazily on the sofa.

Dean sighed wistfully as he relayed this delicious scene. Sam's soft hair was fanned out on the ugly orange throw pillow, the shadows casting across his delicate features in the flickering light of the black and white movie. Dean groaned in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening laying here with Sam, but he had somewhere to be....

"Eloisa Hurley's daughter slipped me this," Dean said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the piece of paper that he had folded down a few more times. While Sam unfolded it, Dean rose from the sofa, turned on a light and then began picking up their dinner mess.

"Are you sure it's safe to go on your own?"

"I think I can handle a hundred pound eighteen year old girl thank you."

Sam stared at the piece of paper and pursed his lips as though he was already regretting what he was about to say.

"She pretty?"

Dean grinned and stalked back to where his beautiful brother lay and knelt down to give him a long deep kiss.

"She's not you," Dean whispered in Sam's ear before he rose, loving the heated look that Sam was giving him.

"I'll be back before you know it!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait everyone! I sped through transcribing this one, so please excuse any typos!! I hope you're all enjoying it so far! There's so much more to come!!

 

The door opened before Dean even had a chance to knock. Rhonda stood on the other side wearing a short silk sundress that brought out the color of her eyes. She smiled at him, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"You're exactly on time," she observed.

"I've never heard anyone complain about that before," Dean quipped.

She nodded slowly, her eyes wandering over him.

"I'm not complaining."

Dean cleared his throat.

"You said there was something weird going on?"

Rhonda stepped aside and Dean came in and headed for the living room where he assumed they would be having their conversation.

"Where's your mom?"

"She's having a conference call at her office with some people in Japan or something," said Rhonda, standing in front of the staircase. "She won't be back until tomorrow morning probably."

Dean nodded and glanced over at the sofas in the living room and then back at Rhonda.

"Where are we doing this?" Dean asked, impatient to get back to Sam as soon as possible. 

Rhonda smirked and started up the carpeted staircase.

Dean followed reluctantly, hoping beyond hope that there was some sort of sitting room upstairs in this lavish house.

They turned down a hallway and she opened a door to what appeared to be her bedroom.

She entered and sat on the bed, facing him, that same smirk on her face.

He stopped in the doorway and shook his head.

"Listen, you're cute and all, but I'm just here for information."

"And I'm just here to give you information. Shut the door behind you."

Her tone was business like and her eyes were calculating.

He came in and shut the door. Spying a rolling chair in front of a cluttered and decorated desk.

He sat down across from her, not wanting to give her any wrong impressions.

"You're used to girls jumping you the minute you come into their house?" Rhonda asked eyeing him, her eyes slits.

"You're used to inviting guys you hardly know over to your house when you're alone?"

"Should I be scared?"

"I could be a weirdo," Dean pointed out.

Her face became more serious.

"I'm counting on it."

There was silence for a moment as she sat up and laced her fingers over a knee for support.

"What do you think happened to my cousin?"

"What do _you_ think happened?"

Her eyes became hard.

"If I'm going to tell you this I need you to do something for me."

Dean nodded, "Sure, what is it?"

She grinned, looking more relaxed.

"You're really not gonna like it."

"Try me," Dean said with a shrug.

She let out a little laugh.

"Take off all of your clothes."

Dean let out a laugh of his own.

"That's the second time I've heard that today. Listen, I'm flattered, but um-"

"I don't want to fuck you Dean. If I'm going to make myself vulnerable, you're going to do the same."

Dean let out a sigh.

_Fuck it. If I die, I die in my sexiest outfit._

He stood up and slipped off his t-shirt, the amulet cold against his bare chest. Rhonda stared expectantly, but her eyes didn't look at the newly exposed flesh.

_That rules out hungry monster and horny teen._

Dean assured himself as he unbuckled his belt and slipped off his pants, removing his shoes with his toes until he was standing in nothing but his boxers.

He crossed his arms and stared at her.

She was still waiting....

"We gonna talk or-"

"Take the boxers off," Rhonda ordered.

Dean looked down for a minute and sighed.

"This better be really good information," Dean grumbled as he pulled down his boxers. He now stood naked as the day he was born. Usually he wasn't shy...but something about this situation was different and he could feel his face becoming red.

"Vulnerable enough for you?" Dean asked, placing both of his hands in front of his crotch to maintain some dignity.

"Not quite. Top drawer of that white dresser."

Dean shuffled over to it, trying to be as not naked as possible in his nakedness. He opened the top drawer as instructed, with one hand still trying to hide his junk. He looked at the contents of the drawer and his eyes shot back at Rhonda questioningly.

Rhonda nodded to the unspoken question and then said "The pink lacy ones."

Dean furrowed his brow and lifted the lacy, pink underwear out of the drawer. He held them out for her to see and she smiled and nodded.

"Put them on," she said, as though this was the natural course of things.

"You've got to be shitting me," Dean said flatly.

"It's really up to you, Dean. Either you can put on the panties and I can tell you everything or you can put your clothes back on and you'll never hear from me again."

Dean sighed and shut his eyes.

_I can't believe I'm doing this..._

He slipped on the pink underwear. They fit tightly around his package, and snugly around his hips. He was surprised...it didn't feel half bad...as a matter of fact...he kind of liked it.

"Okay, what-"

There was a bright flash of light and Dean had to blink a few times to adjust his vision. Once he could see properly, his eyes landed on Rhonda, who was fanning a polaroid in one hand and holding the camera in the other.

"You didn't."

"I did," Rhonda replied with a grin. "Just in case you had the urge to run around and call me crazy, or tell my mother about any of what I'm about to say...insurance."

_Smart girl._

The voice in his head chirped.

Dean turned the desk swivel chair so that the back was facing Rhonda and sat down, feeling a little bit more covered than he had before and secretly adoring the feeling of the soft lace against his sensitive skin.

"So, ready to talk?" Dean demanded.

Rhonda sighed.

"I think someone's murdering my family."

Dean nodded.

"Okay..."

"I think the calls are warnings....My great great-grandma, she always talks about the angel in our family...."

"She's still alive?"

"Yeah...she was pretty young when she had my great grandma, and she was pretty young when she had Nanna."

"What did she say about the angel?" Dean pressed.

Rhonda looked him over, uncertain of whether or not to proceed.

"She says that the angel comes to tell others about death _after_ it happens, and comes to _our_ family to _warn_ us about it before it happens. We're special, I guess."

Rhonda shrugged.

"I know it sounds pretty stupid."

"So you think that this...angel was warning your mom about her cousin's accident so she could try and stop it?"

"It wasn't an accident," Rhonda said sharply. "My mom won't listen to me, but whatever happened to Morgan, it _wasn't_ a car accident."

"What do you think it was?"

"I don't know. But we need to figure this out, because Nan-nan is next."

Dean stared at her, his nakedness completely forgotten at this point.

"You've been getting calls."

It wasn't a question.

Rhonda nodded, her eyes sharp.

"They're Nan-nan. I went to visit her after the call and she told me that she hadn't been calling me. Nan-nan says it's the angel."

A sad little smile graced her lips and she looked down and began picking at an embroidered yellow daisy on her comforter.

"Nan-nan says that she's okay...because she's old...that it makes sense that she's next because she's old...."

Dean didn't know what to say, but instead kept his eyes on Rhonda, who flicked a nearly invisible tear gracefully from her face.

Something occurred to Dean suddenly.

"Rhonda?"

"Do you know a Terrance Fanning?"

Rhonda shook her head slowly.

"Why?"

"This...thing that's been happening to you and your mom...it's been happening to other people also."

"What is it?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Dean said, resting his elbow on the back of his chair. "We think it might be some kind of-" he caught himself immediately. They weren't here to share and care! He had a fucking job to do!

He cleared his throat and put as much authority into his voice as a man wearing nothing but pink, lacy panties could.

"Some kind of phenomenon. I'm going to need your help to figure this out though. Do you think you're mom will be on board to help?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes and looked at him incredulously.

"She thinks I'm nuts whenever I mention any of this. She never goes to see Nan-nan...thinks she's a loony old woman."

Dean nodded.

"Just us, then."

He looked around the room trying to find something else to say until he finally said.

"Can I put my clothes on?"

 

Dean locked the door behind him, not that Rhonda hadn't already seen him naked, but that hadn't really been his idea...

_Sam's gonna fucking kill me...._

Then another thought occurred to him as he stood in front of the mirror....

_What Sam doesn't know won't hurt him._

_You need to tell Sam!_

The voice in his head nearly shouted.

_He would not understand! We're not there yet, trust wise! I just got him back!_

_And you'll lose him again!_

Dean let out an annoyed little groan at his internal dialogue and turned the crystal knobs of the sink so he could splash his face with cold water. He grabbed a towel that was laying on the blue and white marbled countertop and dabbed his face with it, looking at his reflection and actually seeing it for the first time. There, in the glow of the bathroom lights from above, he stood in all of his masculine glory, and then he let his eyes drop to the pink silk that still hugged his hips. He took and moment and looked around, paranoid even though he knew no one could see him. Then he backed up enough so that he could see himself in the mirror...well at least the part that mattered. He turned and observed the pink silk to see how it accentuated his form. His sharp, male lines that heavy training had inadvertently honed to perfection were starkly contrasted with the soft, feminine undergarments. They barely fit...but he still liked the feeling of them....

_They don't look half bad either._

A sharp knock came on the door.

"Stop playing with yourself in there!" Rhonda scolded on the other side.

And Dean blushed the same color as the panties.

 

"Call me the next time you get a call from her. I think we should probably go visit her if that happens and we can see if we can find anything out. I need to talk to my superior about this-"

Dean had been barking orders from the moment he strolled out of the bathroom fully clothed.

_Funny how outfits can give you confidence..._

Dean had been more than tempted to keep the panties but decided against it for two reasons:

1\. Rhonda would surely notice that they were gone and demand them back...and she had pictures...

(Dean shivered internally).

2\. If Sam ever found them, he would be lost to Dean forever.

So he left the panties on the bathroom counter and switched them out for boxers.

Sure enough, once Dean came out of the bathroom, Rhonda went into it and shut the door behind her.

_Probably checking for those undies...sigh...._

She followed him down the stairs saying nothing to his long tirade of instructions until finally they reached the door and she opened it.

He stepped outside and turned to Rhonda, who stood in the doorway, the light from the inside cascading out over her form and leaking into the darkness of the night.

"Good night," Dean said casually, as though this was just another night.

He turned to go but a hand grabbed his wrist and turned him around.

Rhonda grabbed Dean's ass, causing Dean to let out a surprised squawk that he hoped the neighbors hadn't heard, and pulled his body against hers from her tight grip.

"Now that I have your number," she said with a grin, "can I call you?"

Dean gave her his most charming smile and reached behind him to take hold of her hands, slowly prying them from his ass cheeks.

"Anytime. Providing it's for professional reasons, of course."

"Of course," Rhonda said, stepping away from him, giving him one last smile and walking back into the square of yellow light that was her open door.

Dean watched her shut the door and heard the lock click into place and he shook his head.

He had to tell John....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved when future Dean and present Dean shared that moment about the panties...because for a second, future Dean smiled and seemed to reminisce. I don't think it had anything to do with the incident itself, but more for how he used to be...how even when he was chasing monsters for a living, like Present Dean, it was still more carefree than when Sam had said "yes" to Lucifer and he had truly lost everything.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Thank you all for sticking with me!

 

Sam had been in a dead sleep when he heard the click as the motel door unlocked. He had been looking over the files again, propped against pillows on his bed, his eyes flickering over the information, trying to take it in, but finding it difficult to focus on the task at hand when the only other two members of his family were out in the dark humid night, on their own and in possible danger. He had shaken his head and had tried to read, but he knew it was useless. He never did well when they were gone...when Dean was out there on his own.

_He's just doing an interrogation..._

He had reminded himself.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he had, with all of his clothes on, files scattered over the orange and blue monstrosity that was a comforter.

And now, in the pitch black, there was the creak of the door opening, a side effect to the humid weather. Heavy footsteps followed the sound of the door closing and locking and Sam opened his eyes in the darkness, letting out a little groan. His eyes flickered around, trying to find little sources of light as he tried to get his eyes to focus. The sound of the footsteps stopped when an unwelcome thought slipped into place in Sam's mind.

_When did I turn out the light?_

Sam sucked in a breath quietly, trying to pull his mind from the fog of the place between sleep and wakefulness. He willed himself to breath softly and kept scouring out little bits of light that were casted on the ceiling from the streetlights coming in through the heavy curtains. His ears strained in the ringing silence, trying to hear more movement from whoever had entered the room. Sam let his head fall slowly to the side, his eyes adjusted now, so he could look at Dean's bed. There was no one in it...and no glow from the bathroom.

_Which means that whoever is here was not the one who turned out the lights..._

"Dean?" he whispered in the direction where he had heard the footsteps stop.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Sammy," Dean's voice came back to him quietly.

"Dean, I think someone else might be here; the light wasn't off when I fell asleep," Sam whispered barely above a breath.

Sam listened for his brother's response but heard nothing, and feared that Dean may not have heard him until he felt warm air tickle his ear and something cold in his hand. He didn't have to look to know it was a gun that Dean had slipped him.

"Okay," Dean said against his ear. "I'm gonna turn on the flashlight, I'll be to your left, so don't shoot me."

Sam nodded, knowing full well that Dean couldn't see him, but that he would understand regardless.

Sam heard a click and Sam held the gun out in front of him, looking around frantically at everywhere the light hit. Dean slowly let the light travel from one side of the motel room to the next, then turned and illuminated the beds, behind Sam and then dropped down to check underneath the beds.

"I'm turning on the light," Dean warned. And then light was stabbing Sam's eyes, temporarily blinding him as he blinked away the discomfort. Dean's hand was on his back, running up and down his spine soothingly, as he had done since they were children. As much as the inner teenager wanted to tell Dean that he didn't need to be coddled, he couldn't deny the immediate comfort and security that enveloped him at the touch.

"I'm gonna have a look around," Dean said, distractedly before stepping away from Sam, letting his fingers linger on Sam's back and trail away as he made a clear path to the bathroom, gun in hand.

Sam watched as Dean peeked into the bathroom, then disappeared into it. Sam's eyes roved over the room, searching for anything out of place. His eyes eventually landed on the mess of papers on the bed. Files lay in disarray all over the comforter, the papers and photographs obstructing the view of the hideous orange flowers that had been printed on its over washed fabric. The only exception was the one that he had been reading before he fell asleep, which lay neatly open on his lap where he had left it.

He sighed and was about to shut the folder and start cleaning up his mess when he noticed something peeking out from underneath the top page. He lifted the paper and saw a piece of what looked like notebook paper folded into fourths and resting in between the pages as though it had always been there. But Sam knew better. He had been flipping through these pages for hours, scouring for clues and he had never come across this. He carefully took it between his fingers and examined its folded exterior. It seemed ordinary. He didn't know what his hesitation was...why didn't he just open it?

Sam slid his fingers between the folds with the intention of doing just that when Dean came out of the bathroom.

"I'm not seeing anything. Are you sure you didn't just turn off the light before you fell asleep?"

Sam looked at the state of the folder on his lap...perfectly balanced. If Sam had turned the light off, it would most likely no longer be where he could read it.

No. He hadn't turned the light out...someone else had.

_Maybe it was dad?_

But Sam knew, as he felt the folded paper between his fingers that it wasn't dad...someone else had come into this room...had left this little note...and had turned the light off.

Sam shrugged in answer to his brother's question.

"Maybe," he responded noncommittally. He didn't know why he didn't want to point out the note to Dean, and filed the thought away as "To think about later."

Dean grinned and sat at the edge of the bed, relaying the disaster that was the files on all of their cases.

"So, any luck in the research department?" Dean asked as he pulled the file off of his lap with one hand and resting his other hand on Sam's kneecap. Sam smiled internally at the intimacy that he had been missing for such a long time, and thought, as Dean began absent mindedly caressing his thigh with his fingertips, that Dean seemed to have been missing it too.

"Nothing we haven't covered before..." Sam responded, letting his head fall back against the wall. "How did your interrogation go?"

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that he saw Dean blush and his gentle touch faltered for half of a second.

He pursed his lips and nodded, looking down at his hand.

"Enlightening."

"How so?"

Dean took a breath. He seemed to be thinking about something else entirely.

_Something's bothering him._

"She said that an angel or something was warning them."

Sam stared at his brother for a minute, something inside of him moving....

Was that _hope_?

"Obviously it's not an angel," Sam's heart sank at Dean's nonchalant words. "So what are we thinking?"

"Banshee is the one the fits the profile the best," Sam said, trying to sound as though he hadn't been thinking stupid thoughts. "They warn people of deaths, tend to follow particular families around. That would explain why Rhonda is getting the calls too, just like her mom."

"But Banshees don't kill people, do they? And besides Rhonda and Eloisa, none of these people are related...."

Sam shook his head.

"No, but, I don't know, Dean, maybe these people are dying from natural causes and the Banshee is just warning them."

"Rhonda doesn't think her cousin's death was an accident," Dean said.

"Does she have any evidence to support that? I mean, seriously? People commit suicide, or die from natural causes every day and their loved ones don't accept it. It's a coping mechanism...maybe she's in a little bit of denial about her cousin's death. It's not unheard of...."

"Well...we'll let dad decide if this is worth any further investigation."

"Whatever you say, Dean...honestly, man, I think this case is closed."

Dean nodded.

"You know dad will want to be sure."

Sam nodded, the piece of paper firmly in his grasp.

"I know."

Dean stared into Sam's face for a few moments, looking like he wanted to say something, then seemed to think better of it and got up off of the bed.

"Well, after all of this excitement..." and he strutted to the bathroom.

Sam waited until the door was shut behind him before unfolding the piece of paper.

He stared down at the writing, the notebook paper small...like it had been from a diary....

_Or a ledger...._

He stared at the words written in black ink on the paper, frowning.

What did it mean?

The paper contained five words.

_"Five States in Five Days."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! Any criticism is welcome, I may need someone to proof read if anyone would like to volunteer ^^


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, guys. I hope you enjoy the work!

 

"A Banshee sounds about right."

Dean glanced over at his father who, up until now, had been driving the Impala in total silence.

 

They had filled him in that morning about what Rhonda had said and the conclusions that they had come to as the result. John had said nothing in return, but had simply nodded and flipped through the stack of files that Sam had replaced on the kitchen table. After a moment of thumbing through them, he seemed to find what he was looking for. He turned and left, and when Sam and Dean had just stared after him in complete confusion, they heard John's gruff voice call, "Dean!"

Dean had given Sam a quick kiss on the lips.

"Lock up after me. Don't go anywhere. I've got my cell phone," Dean said quickly before running out after John.

 

Now they were pulling up next to an apartment complex that was a strange soft pink color.

Dean didn't dare ask where they were, but simply followed John, who seemed to know exactly where he was going.

They stopped in front of an apartment.

A mat sat outside of it that said in charming cursive: "Beware of Fog," a marijuana leaf illustrated beside the writing.

John rapped on the door loudly.

There was no sound on the other side.

He tried again and there was the sound of coughing before the shuffle of feet and the metallic clicks of the locks being released.

The door opened and a young man in his mid to late 20's stood before them. His brown hair was grown out to his shoulders, and it fell in his puffy red eyes, the distinct smell of weed wafted from the surprisingly nice interior of the apartment.

"Tristan O'Malley?" John asked.

"Nah, man...you a cop?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Tristan's roommate. Will Mansher. You a cop?"

"FBI," John responded.

"I should have known from your knock," the young man grumbled, scratching his nose and sniffing. "That's weird though."

"How so?"

"That you don't know."

John's stare was fixed on the young man, and Dean could tell that he was trying his best to keep composure.

"Why don't you enlighten me?"

Dean was happy that John still seemed to be in a good mood, because otherwise this would have been far less pleasant.

"Tristan's..." the young man looked down at the floor, a pained expression on his face. "Tristan's dead."

 

"They found his car yesterday," said a very tired looking Delilah Fanning.

After hearing the news they had gone straight to her house. She had been confused to see them standing at her doorstep again, but had been hospitable nonetheless.

"He had been on a rock climbing trip...they think that he may have fallen asleep at the wheel...he drove off he side of a cliff...and his car-"

She covered her mouth as tears began to drop down her pretty face.

Her fiancé, Ted, who was sitting next to her on the sofa, put a comforting arm around her.

"It's alright, babe. Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest. I can take I from here," he said soothingly.

She nodded and stood up, leaving the room, sniffling.

Ted watched her go, his eyes filled with worry.

Once she was gone, he looked back at John and Dean, shaking his head.

"First her dad and then her cousin. What a nightmare."

"So it was a car accident?" John inquired softly.

"Yeah. He ran off of a cliff. He had been on a camping and rock climbing trip thing, five states in five days...something like that. He was super active. Anyway, they think that's why his car went up in flames so easy after the crash...thought he might of packed something to start fires for camp. There was hardly anything left of his body. We only know that it was him because he was wearing his clothes and was in his car...."

"Mr. Tokar, your fiancé told us that you heard those calls from her father before he died."

"I did, it was the weirdest thing you've ever heard....."

"Did she, by any chance, get any of these calls from her cousin before he passed?"

Ted shook his head, a look of concern crossing his face.

"You don't think this was a suicide, do you?"

"We don't know...you're sure there were no calls?"

"Positive."

"Thank you for your time."

 

***

 

Sam was perusing the files, picking at the pages with little interest. This whole thing was pretty much settled anyway, wasn't it? Banshees weren't dangerous...and even if John wanted to get rid of this thing, Sam was pretty sure that it was Phyllis O'Malley's ghost which had ascended to Bansheeism. It would be a simple salt and burn and then they'd get the hell out of this muggy place and move on to the next man eating monstrosity...move on to the next broken family...the next tragic scene. He almost wanted to make a bet with himself to see if he could predict who the next meal would be: a son? daughter? maybe someone's great Uncle-

The annoying melody of his ring tone brought him out of his morbid thoughts and he answered when he saw Dean's name on the front.

"Hey, looks like we're packing up. Dad's pretty sure these are accidents and a Banshee is making the calls, and if that's the case, then we don't really have anything to worry about. Not to mention the fact that it seems to have skipped town anyway."

"Did you talk to Tristan O'Malley?"

"No, he's dead. No phone calls to the family though, which means no more Banshee."

"How did he die?"

"Car accident. He was on some camping trip...five states in five days...what's that all about anyway? Is that a thing?"

Sam suddenly felt cold.

"Five states in five days?"

"Yeah, what is that? Like a marathon?"

"Dean..."

"What's wrong Sammy, you okay?"

"We can't leave yet...."

 

 

"Sam, there are _real_ monsters out there; people's lives are at stake. We're not staying here to off some _Banshee_. They're harmless," John grunted as he went through his clothes, sorting the dirty from the clean.

"We can't leave yet. Something's not right."

"Well, we're not leaving until tomorrow, so win-win."

"Sir, please-"

The sound of John's ringtone bleated in interruption and he swiftly answered, heading outside for what was sure to be another personal conversation.

Sam could tell by the look in his eyes that he was tired.

John hadn't slept for days, between this hunt and whatever else he was doing around here, John was spread thin...and the fact that Sam could _tell_ was what scared him. Whatever was going on with their father, it was more than just some _hunts_....

"What's going on, Sam?" Dean asked quietly, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. "Why do you think something else is going on?"

Sam wanted to tell him about the note...wanted to show it to him...but that would be useless. If anything, Dean would just think that it was a regular note. He had found it in one of the files after all...then he would have to explain who the note was _actually_ from, and that was out of the question....

"I just have a feeling," Sam said, hoping that it would suffice.

"That's not much to go on, Sam. No offence, but you're not exactly Miss Cleo."

Sam scoffed, "I'll take that as a compliment."

John walked back in.

"Duty calls, boys. I'll be back tomorrow, have our stuff packed and ready to go."

"Sir-"

"Enough, Sam. That's an order."

The moment their father left with the truck, Sam rounded on Dean.

"I will do _all_ of the laundry and the packing, but you need to investigate Tristan O'Malley's death-"

But Dean obviously had other plans as he pulled Sam up against his body by his waist and gave him a slow, soft kiss.

"I like our alone time," Dean whispered against Sam's lips. "Don't you?"

Sam had to fight through the haze of potent temptation to find his words.

"We have to figure this out," Sam said breathlessly, as Dean's hands began to journey under his shirt and caress his skin.

"It's already been figured out, and who knows when we'll be alone like this once we get back on the road."

Sam grunted in frustration. Dean was right. Once they got on the road, the most contact that they would get was some hand holding in the car while following their father's truck.

But there was also the note...also the possibility that there could be something very _wrong_....

"Dean, please."

Dean pulled away and stared into Sam's eyes searchingly, then let out an agitated sound.

"Okay, Sammy. What do you want to know?"

"Anything we can find out about Tristan."

"We already interrogated the cousin."

"Then go search his place, there's something missing, I can _feel_ it!"

"Fine, but you're doing the laundry!"

"And the packing," Sam conceded, relieved that he had Dean on his side.

Dean nodded and seemed to think for a minute, before a sly smile spread on those perfect lips.

"One more condition."

"I'm doing the laundry and the packing, Dean! What else could you _want_?"

Dean gently pulled Sam against him again, leaning their foreheads together.

"Share a bed with me tonight."

Sam felt the grin break across his face, and knew that he was blushing like a friggin' virgin.

_Well I still am a virgin, so I'm allowed!_

"I thought that was a given," Sam replied, placing his hands on either side of Dean's face and nipping his pouty bottom lip playfully.

Dean showed Sam just how playful he really felt by kissing Sam fully on the lips, lapping his tongue against Sam's, demanding and hungry.

Sam forgot what they had been talking about and all he could think of was Dean...Dean and his sexy lips...Dean and his gruff voice and his charming smile...and those strong calloused hands that were now exploring Sam's body greedily, pinching a nipple and making Sam whimper in the older boy's mouth.

Dean grinned and bit his lower lip, his green eyes blazing with unspoken desires as he softly pinched the nub again. He was rewarded by another sinful sound from Sam.

"You like that, baby?" Dean growled, pushing his clothed erection against Sam's making the brunette tilt his head back, his mouth dropping open. Dean groaned and Sam got even harder knowing that the sound was all for him...knew that Dean wanted him as much as he wanted Dean. He steadied himself, grasping onto the table behind him so he could look back into Dean's face, but Dean was kissing his neck now with soft determination, moving down to lay tender kisses on his throat and his collar bone. Sam felt a tug, and his shirt was raised over his head, and Dean was now kissing down his naked chest, stopping for a moment to rest his cheek against his sternum.

He stayed there while Sam slowly caught his breath and his chest clenched when he realized that Dean was listening to his heart beat. He flushed at the sheer _tenderness_ of the act. The intimate moment passed quickly when Dean decided to latch that sexy, perfect mouth onto his nipple, making him cry out in a mixture of pleasure and surprise.

Dean laved his tongue on the nub, holding Sam's squirming body still with strong hands.

"I know you like that, baby boy," Dean breathed against the wet skin, causing the nipple to harden even more from the sensation.

Dean ran his fingertips over the worked skin and Sam whimpered.

"Fuck, Dean! _Ah_ -are you trying to kill me?" Sam's voice came out shaky, but Dean wasn't paying attention.

Apparently very secure with his obvious control over Sam, his mouth continued it downward journey, nipping and kissing while his fingers found the button to Sam's jeans. Sam didn't notice what Dean was doing until he felt the strain against his hard dick subside a little.

"Dean," Sam panted. "Wait-"

Dean unzipped his pants and pulled them down slowly, so that his hipbones were naked before him. He kissed the ticklish skin of Sam's groin, sucking a love bite into it while Sam could do nothing but pant and moan.

Dean pulled Sam's pants down all the way, releasing his rock hard erection.

"Dean," Sam tried to protest, but the older of the two had stuck a pink tongue out and was slowly tasting the younger's member.

"I'll make a deal with you, Sammy," Dean said huskily from where he knelt. "If you come without making any noises, I'll investigate the O'Malley kid _and_ I'll pack the bags...."

If Sam was going to at least make an _effort_ to stand his ground, he was never given the chance. Dean took Sam's dick into his mouth, sucking and licking, groaning around his dick like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted, while Sam slapped one hand over his own mouth to keep from making a sound, the other hand holding onto the kitchen table for dear life.

It wasn't that Sam minded doing the laundry and packing the bags...he just knew that he wanted to give Dean what he wanted...wanted to give Dean _everything_...if he'd just _take_ it....

Dean pulled off of Sam's cock, licking it again to coat it with hot saliva before standing up and pulling Sam's hand away from his mouth and replacing it with his lips. Sam welcomed Dean's tongue that tasted like himself, while Dean unbuttoned his own jeans and pulled out his hard dick and rubbed it against Sam's.

Sam released trembling breaths as he used all of his effort to remain standing and quiet.

Dean's green eyes were glowing as he looked over Sam's face, his swollen red lips turning up into a grin.

"Good boy, Sammy," Dean whispered, as he wrapped his hand around both of their erections. "So obedient...."

He began to jack them off fervently, while Sam rocked into the pumping hand, biting his lip so as to not moan like a whore, clutching the table so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"You like it when I lube you up with my spit?"

Sam felt tears stinging his eyes as he bit back hard against the appreciative sounds that wanted to bubble from his throat.

"Look at me, baby," Dean growled, lacing the fingers of his other hand through the soft strands of Sam's hair, tilting his face up so that they were staring into each other's eyes.

Sam could feel himself blushing again, feeling naked as he looked into the fantastic green of Dean's irises.

"God, you're beautiful Sammy," Dean stammered and pulled Sam into a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue in Sam's mouth in time with his strokes.

Sam broke off enough to say "Dean stop teasing me and just _fuck_ me already-"

Dean came first, and the moment that Sam felt the hot liquid on his own naked member he followed.

Dean milked them both dry, laying his head on Sam's shoulder, while the latter leaned his full weight against the table, his breaths coming out in shaky streams. Sam nuzzled his nose into Dean's neck and breathed in the scent of him...he loved the smell of Dean...could hardly believe that they used the same shampoo and conditioner...same laundry detergent and body wash...somehow Dean always smelled like _Dean._  


_Like home._

"You lost the silent game," Dean chuckled softly, and Sam could feel puffs of warm breath against his naked shoulder. "You have to do the laundry _and_ pack."

Sam grinned and kissed Dean's neck, eliciting a little hum of contentment from his older brother.

"You need to change your pants, then, before you go hold up your end of the bargain."

"I just washed these yesterday. They're clean," Dean protested weakly.

"Not anymore, Dean," Sam retorted, and Dean giggled a little, pulling away so he could look at Sam again, biting his lip.

"You know you're a pain in the ass, right?" Dean asked fondly, his eyes softly gazing into Sam's.

"I love you too, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have the next chapter up really really soon!


	19. Chapter 19

 

After cleaning himself off with a washcloth, Dean changed his pants and gave Sam the dirty ones, then, after some groping on his part and insistence that he get going on Sam's part, he headed for Tristan O'Malley's apartment.

 

The door opened almost immediately after he knocked, and the roommate was there once more, a joint hanging unlit from between his lips.

"Oh, shit," Will said, looking Dean up and down with bloodshot eyes and taking the joint out of his mouth, putting it behind his back.

Obviously he had been expecting someone other than the (fake) FBI to show up.

"Look man, I have a permit-"

"I've got more important things to worry about, Chong," Dean cut him off. "I just need to talk to you about Tristan O'Malley. Can I come in?"

"Sure. Come on in...um..."

"Dean."

"Dean, right. Come on in Dean from the FBI."

"Thanks."

He walked into the dim apartment and almost sighed at the relief that Tristan and Will had installed an air conditioner.

"Sit down," Will said, gesturing to the plush red sofa that was covered in a hodgepodge of pillows. "Can I get you something? A soda? Juice-wait never mind, we're out of juice."

"I'm fine, thanks," Dean said as he sank down into the incredibly comfortable sofa.

And just like that he was relaxed, laying back on comfy pillows and basking in the freezing cold air of the air conditioned room. He took a look at his surroundings from where he sat.

It was a nice place, not the biggest, but definitely comfortable and decently decorated considering its inhabitants had been two bachelors. There was a nice TV with an Atari hooked up to it, two bean bags situated in front of the gaming alter with a controller residing on each.

There was the sound of Will rummaging around the refrigerator, then the sound of a can popping open and he appeared in front of Dean holding a Pepsi and plopped into one of the beanbags. He made a surprised face as he rooted around underneath him to find the game controller and frowned at it, as though it had done something offensive before placing it on the ground beside him.

"Nice place you got here," Dean said, nodding in approval. "I like your couch."

"Yeah...Tristan got all of this stuff. I suck at this shit," said Will.

"He must have some cash to be able to afford that nice TV."

"Yeah, he was pretty loaded. Some family member left him a whole bunch of money, so for awhile he didn't really have to work."

"Hence the hiking adventures."

"Yeah, and camping and snorkling and all of that highly motivated shit you see on Nike commercials," Will chuckled.

"Where's all the money going now that he's gone?"

"Oh, he kinda ran out...he was on his last trip before he started his new job."

"Where was his new job?"

"Um...he told me...but I wasn't really paying attention...but uh...he had to buy scrubs...."

"Were you guys close?"

"Yeah. He was like, my best friend."

"Then why didn't you go on the little 'five states in five days' excursion?" Dean asked curiously.

"I'm studying," Will said shrugging. "And I'm not fucking Spiderman; the only thing you'll catch me climbing is the stairs."

"What do you study?"

"Physics. Hence the not rock climbing."

"Really, you look more like a botany kind of guy to me," Dean said.

Will let out a _pfft_ and drank his soda, grinning.

"I know this is kind of a weird question but, did you get any strange calls or anything before Tristan passed away?" Dean ventured.

Will thought for a moment and then nodded slowly as though remembering something.

"There was some chick who called and thought I was some guy named Jimmy. She wouldn't fucking leave me alone...just kept ranting at me about leaving my kid, yelled about what a fuck up I am...that really hurt my feelings...I mean, I try my best y'know...but then I remembered that I'm not Jimmy, and I hung up."

Dean nodded as though this was helpful, and Will seemed content to believe that he had been, so Dean moved on.

"Was he acting strange at all before he left?"

"Yeah, he'd always get a little manic before he went out for a trip...get himself all pumped up and then he'd pack and spend like two days cleaning everything...like super meticulous toothbrush on tile kind of cleaning."

"He always got like that?"

"Yeah, before he went on trips, yeah. He was one of those super intense plan people who had their whole year mapped out to the last minute."

"For a guy who planned everything so well, how'd he run out of money?"

Will shrugged. "Probably thought he had a back up plan."

 

Dean searched Tristan's room and found it as meticulously maintained as Will had lead him to believe. Unlike the rest of the apartment, it was stripped of personality. Only the bare essentials could be found. His clothes were hung in an organized fashion, his shirts neatly folded in the drawers, all of his important paperwork in one file.

One thing that Dean didn't see was pictures...as a matter of fact there wasn't one goddamn picture of the dude....

_He would have his driver's license on him....There's no passport...._

A thought suddenly occurred to Dean and he rustled though the desk again, though everything was so clean, he should have found it immediately.

If this kid was a medical assistant of some kind, didn't he need an employee badge or something?

Dean went back to the closet to see if it was with Tristan's scrubs...then discovered that there were none hanging in the closet.

He checked the drawers.

"Why the fuck would he need scrubs on a camping trip?" Dean asked himself aloud.

  
_Poor Will was probably stoned off his ass...._ He rationalized.

This still didn't solve the picture thing, and Sam would fucking kill him if he didn't manage at least that.

Dean went to the living room where Will sat on the sofa, a huge book in his lap and a Redvine hanging out of his mouth.

"Do you have any pictures of Tristan?"

"Yeah...just one."


	20. Chapter 20

 

"Does this guy look familiar?" Dean asked, laying a picture down on the pile of laundry Sam was busy sorting through.

Sam picked up the photo and looked at it.

It was a picture of three men sitting at the table in the apartment, playing cards were strewn about it along with beer bottles and an open box of donuts. The picture was obviously taken at an odd moment, because none of the men were looking at the camera. Will had his teeth clenched around a powdered donut, while the guy sitting in the middle was pulling his tie had obviously just spilled his beer all over himself, his mouth forming an "O" while the guy on the far right with bright red hair was pointing and laughing at him.

Will had told Dean that the guy in the middle was a law student: David Sybley.

The considerate guy to the far right was Tristan O'Malley.

Sam's eyebrows came together.

"He looks really familiar..." Sam said, his hazel eyes staring at the photo intensely.

"Well don't burn a hole in it, Summers," Dean said playfully before he heard the melodic ring of a cell phone.

"Mine or yours?" Sam murmured, still looking at the picture.

"Mine," Dean replied, looking at the name on the phone and picking up. "Rhonda?"

Sam's eyes snapped up and Dean sighed internally. He knew that he would have to get used to the short leash for awhile...he had earned it and Sam's worth it.

"Hey, Dean...can you come pick me up at my house tonight?" Rhonda said casually on the other end.

"Why?"

"I got another call from Nan-nan...or the _other_ Nan-nan...I want to go make sure that she's okay...."

"Why not go right now?"

"My mother will throw me in a psych ward if I told her why!"

"Can't you just tell her that you miss her?"

"Damn it, Dean! Just come pick me up at 8:30! Don't park in front of my house; park in front of my neighbor's house and don't come to me, I'll come to you-"

"Rhonda-"

"Just wait for me in your car!"

"Hey wait-"

Silence on the other end.

She had hung up.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked.

"Rhonda got another call from the Banshee. I have to go over there tonight get Rhonda, then we're gonna stake out the old lady's house."

"Sounds like fun," Sam said sarcastically.

"Yep...oodles."

"It also sounds like the Banshee is still here...."

Dean pressed his lips together, knowing what was coming next.

"Yeah...."

"Which means we should probably stay-"

"Sammy-"

"Just for a few more days until we can get this whole thing figured out!"

"We have to move on, Sam. You heard dad, it's  _harmless_...annoying but benign."

Sam clenched his jaw and began sorting through the laundry again, angry now.

Dean pursed his lips as he watched Sam perform the domestic act, and caught himself fantasizing (not for the first time, mind you), about a life with just the two of them....

"I can help you with that...I've got time..." Dean offered, trying to make peace.

Sam shook his head. "I'm on the waiting list...the laundromat only has one washer and dryer, so I had to make an appointment to use it."

"What time is the appointment?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Perfect timing; that's when I need to head over to Rhonda's."

"Yeah," Sam grumbled under his breath as he threw a shirt into the darks pile. "Perfect."

 

Dean sat outside of Rhonda's neighbor's house and waited. It was 8:34pm and the lights in Rhonda's house were still on. He sighed and prayed that her neighbors didn't report a strange man sitting outside of their house.

He watched as the lights went out in the windows of the Hurley house and knew that it was almost time.

He stared at the residence, trying to see some shape of Rhonda climbing out of a window, or sneaking from around the house, but saw nothing.

A knock on his window made him nearly jump out of his skin as he whirled to see Rhonda knocking on the driver's side window.

Dean unlocked the passenger door and Rhonda climbed in, smiling.

"Did I scare you?"

"I didn't see you come out."

"That's the point of sneaking out...no one's _supposed_ to see you."

"Aren't you a little old to be sneaking out of your own house?"

"Aren't you a little young to be an FBI agent's assistant?"

Dean nodded. "Touché," and knocked the shift into gear.

 

It turned out that Rhonda Hurley's Nan-nan lived in an old folks home about twenty minutes from Rhonda's house called "Golden Gardens retirement home."

It was a nice place, despite the feeling of impending death that seemed to emanate from the white concrete of the exterior.

Dean shivered as he parked in front of it.

"Do you want to go in?" Dean asked.

"No," Rhonda said, making herself comfortable as she stared at the building.

"What time did she call you?"

"She didn't," Rhonda said nonchalantly.

Dean jerked in his seat to look at her.

"So why are we here?"

"I'm worried about her."

"So what was your plan? To just sit out here all night and wait for something to happen?"

Rhonda turned and looked at him, her eyes looking him up and down as she played with a piece of her long strawberry blonde hair.

"I'm eighteen."

"So being eighteen gives you the right to drag people to old age homes for a stake out?"

"I've seen you looking at me," Rhonda said, a sly smile on her face.

Dean scoffed.

"Are you kidding? You brought me to an old age home to _screw_?"

Rhonda rolled her eyes.

"No, Dean. I brought you to an old age home to wait for a phone call from my Nan-nan, so that we can be _here_ when it happens and we can run in and see if there's someone playing a trick on us!"

"What about the 'angel'?"

"We have to explore all possibilities."

Dean nodded.

That made a lot of sense.

"And what we do in the meantime is between adults...." Rhonda said quietly.

"Well those adult activities are strictly limited to I-spy and guess who," Dean retorted, arranging himself so that he was sitting father away from his passenger.

"Geeze, sorry for being direct," Rhonda mumbled, crossing her arms in an obvious position of defensiveness.

"There is nothing wrong with a girl being direct. I like a girl who doesn't play games, okay. It's got nothing to do with you; you're great."

"Just not great enough for you...I am so embarrassed right now, why the _hell_ did I open my mouth?"

"It's not you. I'm already in a committed relationship."

Dean couldn't help but puff up a little at the admittance.

"How does she feel about you wearing _my_ underwear?"

Dean cleared his throat and picked at his shirt evasively. "Hasn't come up in conversation yet."

Rhonda giggled and Dean grinned.

A melody that Dean faintly recognized as being a ringtone version of "Wannabe" by the Spice girls, cut through the darkness.

Ronda pulled out her phone.

"Really? Spice girls?"

"Don't look at me, _you're_ the one who recognized the song," Rhonda retorted looking down at the caller ID.

Her face dropped as she looked at the name across the front.

"Dean, it's her!"

Dean sat up and stared at the phone as Rhonda put it on speaker so that they could both hear.

It was silence for a moment when all they could hear was the sound of harsh breathing on the other side.

"Nan-nan?" Rhonda squeaked.

" _Rhonda_ ," the voice of an old woman whimpered on the other line. " _Rhonda, please help me_...."

Dean stared at Rhonda who was staring at the phone, her eyes wide and scared, the idea of running out of the car to see if it was an elaborate hoax fleeing both of their minds as they listened to the desperate voice on the other end.

"What's wrong Nan-nan?"

Dean was impressed by how steady her voice was.

" _Rhonda...I'm dying...I'm going to die_...."

"Nan-nan, what's _wrong_? What are you dying from?"

Dean noticed movement over Rhonda's shoulder, and his eyes connected with its source in the parking lot. In the shadow beneath a street light there was a figure that Dean could barely make out...he strained his eyes to distinguish its shape more, but it was nearly one with the darkness and impossible to see.

" _Rhondaaaaaaaaaa_..." the voice groaned mournfully.

Dean looked back and Rhonda to see that she was shaking, her eyes wide as she stared at Dean.

It suddenly seemed darker in the car...as though the parking lot lights had gone out.

Dean looked over Rhonda's shoulder again and his heart nearly stopped beating.

A withered creature stood outside of the car, its bony hand pressed against the passenger window as it peered inside with glowing white eyes...it looked like the shriveled remains of an old woman, her body wrapped in a black cloak.

" _Rhonda_..." the voice choked, and Dean watched in horror as the lipless mouth of the creature open and shut to form the words that came through the phone. " _Rhonda...please saaaaave meeeeeee_!"

Rhonda was staring at Dean now.

"Dean...what?"

Dean shoved the key back into the ignition right as Rhonda turned to see what he had been staring at.

"AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Rhonda let out her most ear piercing scream while Dean started the car.

"HOLY SHIT! DEAN GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Rhonda screamed.

The creature slapped its bony hands on the window, a horrible wail coming from its gaping mouth and through Rhonda's speaker simultaneously. 

He shoved the car into gear and pealed out of the parking lot.

**Author's Note:**

> I know after Part 3, y'all probably hate me a little, but this is a necessary evil! And as usual, I PROMISE that this series has a happy ending!! Comments are GOLDEN! Please enjoy!


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